


Betrayal

by reidsbau



Series: Losing Control [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Choking, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dom Spencer Reid, F/M, Family Issues, Hand Kink, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Sequel, Smut, mentions of dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reidsbau/pseuds/reidsbau
Summary: After learning that your father is alive, you and the team embark on a journey you're not prepared for.[ Sequel to Losing Control ]
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Series: Losing Control [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899070
Comments: 52
Kudos: 116





	1. Together

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mumble, your hands gripping the edge of Hotch’s desk. 

He shoots up from his desk, grabbing the small plastic trash can on the floor and briskly walking around to you just in time for you to empty the contents of your stomach into it. You hold your hair back, gagging as tears sting your eyes. After a moment, you inhale, trying to steady your racing heart as you wipe your mouth. You shakily sit back down in the seat across from Hotch’s desk, gripping the arms of the chair.

Hotch sets the trash can next to you before going back around to his desk, pulling out a pack of gum and sliding you a piece. You take it gratefully, sticking the minty gum in your mouth. Your mind is going a million miles a minute, eyes glued to the sketch in front of you of your father.

“Hotch…how…I don’t…” You trail off, unable to form a complete sentence.

 _Your dad is alive_.

 _And he’s a serial killer_.

“I’ll explain everything soon. We…the Bureau assigned us this case because of you. You know your father better than anyone—“

“Do I?” You ask defensively, glaring at the piece of paper in front of you. “Because it looks like I don’t even know him at all.”

Hotch sighs. “I understand this is hard for you,” he says softly. “Go home. Talk to Spencer. We’re going to be meeting in the roundtable room in an hour to talk about the case.”

You shakily stand, biting the inside of your cheek. “And…you’re sure? You’re positive this is my father?”

Hotch stands with you. “Yes. We are.”

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes as you try to steady yourself. “Okay, then.”

You turn on your heels, ignoring the calls from your coworkers and friends as you cross the bullpen. You push the doors open so hard it’s a wonder you didn’t fucking crack the glass. After climbing into your car, you turn it on, gripping the steering wheel tightly. You pull out you phone and hold it up to your ear.

“Hey, bitch,” Jamie’s voice rings from the other line.

“Jamie,” you say shakily, biting your bottom lip. “Can you watch the kids for Spencer and I tonight? Something came up at work.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, noticing the way your voice wavers. “I can be there in fifteen.”

“I’ll explain later, okay? Thank you. I love you.”

You hang up and pull out of the parking lot, speeding home, zoned out the entire time. It’s a wonder you made it to you and Spencer’s little house without fucking crashing into anything. You park the car and slam the door shut before unlocking the door and walking inside.

Wordlessly, you walk into the living room, Joseph bouncing off the couch and walking over to you. 

“Mama!” He shouts, wrapping his arms around your calves. 

You smile and pick him up, kissing his cheek. “Hi, honey.” You give him a hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck.

Spencer smiles at you, the smile leaving his face as he notices the look on yours. A knock sounds at your door and you turn, still holding Joseph as you answer. You sigh in relief as you take in Jamie’s small frame. Her blonde hair is cut, just above her shoulders, her blue eyes looking at Joseph first, then you.

“Auntie Jamie!” Joseph says, wiggling out of your arms.

You set him down and he gives Jamie a hug around her legs. Jamie laughs and looks at you.

“Can you go play with him upstairs?” You whisper, Jamie nodding as she takes Joseph’s hand, stepping inside. “Go play with Auntie Jamie! You can show her your new chess set.” You close the door, watching them go up the stairs. “Where’s Rhiannon?”

“She’s in her crib, sleeping.” He takes a step toward you, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You walk over to him, biting the inside of your cheek. “Hotch called me in to tell me the team is working a case.”

Spencer nods slowly. “Okay.”

“The unsub is my dad. He’s alive.” The words leave your mouth as a whisper, Spencer’s mouth dropping open. You purse your lips. 

“What?” He asks, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “How?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sure. Hotch is meeting with the team in about thirty minutes.” You scrunch your eyebrows. “He said he’d explain.”

“Do you think the kids are safe here?” Spencer whispers, his voice concerned. 

You shake your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek harshly to keep the tears from springing to your eyes. “I…I don’t know. I don’t think he’d come after them but I’m not sure about anything right now, Spence.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to him. He plants a soft kiss on your forehead and you put your head on his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. “Maybe they can stay with Jamie?”

You sigh, pulling back to look in his eyes. “Let’s just see what Hotch says first. I don’t want to make Jamie panic.”

Spencer nods, leaning in to give you a kiss. You press your lips against his, letting yourself relax against him for a moment before pulling away 

“Go change. I’ll go talk to Jamie.”

He nods and bolts up the stairs two at a time. You follow him, walking into Joseph’s room, watching Jamie try to keep up with him while they play chess. For a four year old, Joseph really does take after Spencer in the brain department. 

“Joseph, honey, mama’s gotta talk to Auntie Jamie for a minute, okay?” You tell him.

He nods, and Jamie stands up, walking over to you. You pull her into the hallway, taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her blue eyes searching yours. 

“My dad is alive,” you tell her, her eyes widening. “He’s alive and he’s been killing people. I don’t know why yet. I don’t know how, or even if, he faked his death. Spencer and I have to go meet with the team so Hotch can explain everything.”

Jamie nods. “Okay. Okay. I can watch the kids.”

You grip her shoulders. “Thank you. There are chicken nuggets and fries in the fridge for this one,” you motion toward Joseph, “and there’s baby food in the pantry for Rhiannon.”

“Does she still like sweet potatoes and bananas?” Jamie asks, grinning.

You nod. “She does.” After a moment, you pull her in for a hug. “Thank you, Jamie. I promise I’ll give you an update by tonight. It might be late, but it will be tonight.”

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too.”

You pull away from her before going into Rhiannon’s nursery, walking over to her crib. You smile as you watch her sleep, lying on her back, wrapped up in the soft blue blanket she likes. You lower the side of the crib, planting a kiss on her forehead before raising it again, going back downstairs. 

Spencer’s standing by the front door, keys in hand. He looks at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Ready?” 

You nod, taking his hand as you walk out the house, locking the door behind you. You climb into Spencer’s car and the two of you race to Headquarters. He grips your hand the entire ride, his thumb rubbing your hand, trying to comfort you.

He parks and you immediately exit the car, Spencer taking your hand again. The two of you release hands as near the door. Here, it’s professional. You scan your card and open the door, Spencer walking in behind you. 

The two of you make your way into the bullpen before walking into the roundtable room. Everyone’s heads swivel, Garcia rising from her seat to come tackle you with a hug. You hug her back, the little pink feather in her hair tickling your nose. She releases you without a word, squeezing your shoulder before returning to her seat. You and Spencer take a seat, meeting Hotch’s eyes.

“So, I’ve briefed everyone on the case that the Bureau has assigned us.” Hotch shifts on his feet, a sign that he’s uncomfortable. “I’m sure Y/n has some questions.”

“Some questions? Hotch she just learned her father is alive, I’m sure she has more than—“ 

Prentiss is cut off by JJ’s elbow jabbing her in the side. She shoots Prentiss a look before turning to you, her eyes apologetic.

“It’s okay,” you say, giving Prentiss a half-hearted smile. “I do have questions.”

Rossi raises his eyebrows. “We all do.”

“How? How is he alive? I thought he was shot.” You clench your hands together into fists.

Hotch takes a seat. “I guess we should start at the beginning.” He folds his hands in front of him. “In the late nineteen-eighties, there was a series of murders up and down the East coast. I told you about this.” You nod. “The killer went dormant around nineteen ninety-two. Does that year have any significance to you?”

You nod, ignoring the pang in your chest when Hotch says the word ‘killer’. “That’s the year he met my mom. I remember her telling me the story when I was little.”

“So, he meets your mom and settles down. Did you ever live anywhere that wasn’t Gatlinburg?”

“Yes,” you speak slowly. “We lived in Blythewood, South Carolina until I was nine. The town was small, only about two-thousand people. Then we moved to Gatlinburg.”

“Do you remember your father having any good friends in South Carolina? Anyone he talked to religiously? This person may have moved to Gatlinburg shortly after your family did.

You shake your head. “I don’t remember a lot from my childhood. Especially when I lived in South Carolina.”

“So, he’s dormant until four years ago. We don’t know the stressor. But, presumably, Tyler Miller approached him and asked him for help with the killings that happened in Gatlinburg. If I had to take a guess, Tyler had been friends with your father for a long time.” Hotch clears his throat. “We’re not quite sure what happened after that. We don’t know why Tyler took the blame for your father. We know he faked his death—we’re not sure how.”

You clench your jaw as you remember staring into the eyes of Tyler Miller. “So he lied to me? And I didn’t catch it? Am I stupid?”

Morgan shakes his head. “No, Y/n. It’s hard to catch people who are lying when they’ve been lying their whole life.”

You think back to your childhood, to South Carolina. You remember going to kindergarten in a brick school building. You remember making your first real friend when you were in third grade. You remember your mom’s laugh when she gave you one of her freshly baked cookies. But that’s it. No memories of your father’s friends. You barely have memories of your _father_. 

“So, what’s the next move?” You ask, feeling Spencer’s hand find yours under the table. He squeezes it gently.

“We need to go back to Gatlinburg and talk to Tyler Miller.”

Your jaw clenches tighter. “Great. What about the most recent murder?”

“It happened in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. We’ll be going there after Gatlinburg,” Hotch says.

“I need you to be honest with me,” you stand, resting your hands flat on the table. “Are my kids in danger? I hate pulling the mommy card, but I need to know if my family will be safe.”

Hotch is silent for a moment. “Do you have someone to watch them?”

You purse your lips. “Jamie’s watching them right now, but I can’t ask her to put her life on hold for me. She has Kyle. She has a house of her own.”

“They can stay with Will,” JJ pipes up, and you turn your surprised gaze to her.

“We can’t ask that of Will,” Spencer says, standing up.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. He has vacation time. Michael and Joseph are the same age. Henry’s old enough that Will doesn’t have to keep an eye on him all the time. We still have our crib from Michael—Rhiannon can sleep there. Please just let us help.”

You look at Spencer, searching his eyes. His hand slides over yours and you find comfort in his familiar touch. After a second, you turn back to JJ.

“Okay, thank you.”

“We’ll station two agents at JJ’s house at all times,” Hotch says, standing up again. “Everyone go make sure your go bags are packed. We’re not going to be back for a while.”

Hotch nods and everyone stands. Prentiss gives your shoulder a squeeze as she walks by, Morgan giving you a soft smile. Rossi lingers in the room with Hotch, and Garcia hurries away to get her go bag. Your guess is she’s coming with us, too.

You grab JJ’s arm. “Hey, seriously, thank you.”

JJ’s smile is genuine. “It’s fine, Y/n. I promise.”

You inhale deeply through your nose. “Spence and I have to go home to pack our bags and say goodbye. Meet us there in forty-five minutes? Will can take them home from our place.”

JJ nods and walks away. You look over at Spencer and he gives you an empathetic smile. He puts his hand on the small of your back as you two walk out of the building, climbing into his car.

You grip his hand as he drives, the ride silent. He parks in front of the house and you get out, one hand against the car. He stops in front of you, rubbing up and down your arms softly.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“I can only imagine, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead.

“I think I’m just scared because I feel like my whole life is lie.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “Spence, what do I do now that everything I’ve ever known is a lie?” Your voice breaks, looking into Spencer’s soft hazel eyes. “How do I pick up the fucking pieces when I don’t even know where they go anymore?”

You let out a soft sob and his arms encircle you, pulling you against his warm body. You wrap your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his chest. One hand rubs up and down your back slowly, the other running through your hair softly.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers in your ear. “We’ll figure it out, together, okay?”

You lean back, his hands moving to cup your face, brushing away the tears that had fallen. “Okay,” you whisper. “Together.”

He leans down and gives you a soft kiss before pulling away. “Come on, let’s go pack.”

You enter the house and tell Jamie the update, letting her know where the kids will be staying. She makes you promise that you’ll keep her updated before leaving, giving you a big hug before she does.

The two of you pack quickly, jamming your go bag with clothes, shoes, and toiletries. You pack enough for two weeks, knowing it’s probably going to be longer than that. Your heart breaks when you think about being away from your kids that long, but you know they’ll be safe with Will. 

After you pack your bag, you go into Joseph’s room. “Hi, honey.”

He grins, jumping off his bed. “Hi, mama.”

“So, mama and daddy have to go away for a while because of work,” you explain, your hand on his shoulder. “So, you’re going to spend some time with Uncle Will, okay? You get to have fun with Henry and Michael.”

Joseph’s eyes light up. “Like a really long play date?”

You smile at your son. “Yes, just like that.”

You stand up, grabbing Joseph’s bag and packing it. You stuff in his favorite stuffed animal—a dark purple dinosaur he named Speckles. You set the bag by the stairs before walking into Rhiannon’s room.

She’s squirming in her crib, and you pick her up, a smile on her face.

“Mama,” she spurts out, giggling.

You cradle the one-year old. “Mama loves you. You’re going to go spend time with Uncle Will, okay?”

Her big hazel eyes look at you, her hand reaching up to grab a piece of your hair. You giggle, hearing Spencer walk into the room.

“Can you pack Rhiannon’s bag?” 

He packs it quickly as you cradle Rhiannon, bouncing her up and down softly. Eventually, her eyes flutter shut, and Spencer walks over to you, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, honey,” he whispers to her before looking at you.

A knock sounds at the door and he sprints down the stairs, welcoming JJ and Will into the house. The four of you do some shuffling, putting Rhiannon’s car seat in the backseat of Will’s car, putting their bags in the trunk.

You strap Rhiannon in, smiling down at her. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you soon.” You plant a kiss on her forehead, letting Spencer say his goodbye.

You scoop Joseph up in your arms, giving him a big hug. “I’m gonna miss you so much, silly boy.”

He giggles, hugging you back before giving you a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll miss you, too, mama.”

“I promise daddy and I will call every chance we get to say hello.” You set him down and he grins up at you as you ruffle his curly hair.

“Okay, mama.”

Spencer hugs him, kissing his forehead. “I love you, big man.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Joseph gets in the backseat and you look at Will. “Thank you so much for this.”

Will grins at you and Spencer. “Nah, we’ll have a good time! I know Henry and Michael are excited.”

“The Bureau is sending agents to watch over you guys,” Spencer says, his hand rubbing small circles in your back.

“We’ll be safe,” Will promises before getting in the car.

You watch him drive off, trying not to cry as you turn toward JJ.

“It’s been four years, you think it’d be easier saying bye by now,” you say softly.

Spencer smiles softly. “Come on, sweetheart.”

The three of you pile into Spencer’s car, driving quickly to Headquarters. You all rush to the tarmac, go bags in hand, one of your hands in Spencer’s.

“Are you ready?” He asks, squeezing your hand.

You look up at him, exhaling through your nose. “I’m ready. Let’s go see the man who helped my father fake his death.”


	2. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the team go pay a certain inmate a visit.

“No, it should be me that talks to him,” you argue, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I just think that it will be too emotional for you,” Hotch says, his eyes searching yours. “We can’t let emotions get in the way of this case.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Put me in the room. Send someone in with me who can lead to interrogation, but I want to be in the room.” You hold Hotch’s gaze. “This man told me he murdered my father, Hotch. Turns out, he didn’t. Wouldn’t you want some answers, too? If you were me?”

Hotch sighs, trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s clearly going to lose this battle. “Fine. I’ll go in with you. If you so much as raise your voice at Tyler Miller, I will not hesitate to drag you out of there myself.”

You give him an apathetic smile. “Thank you, sir.”

Sighing, you lean against the brick wall of the Morgan County Correctional Complex, resting the back of your head against it. You look up at the clear blue sky, jumping a little when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Sorry I scared you,” Rossi says, chuckling softly. “So, you’re going into see Tyler Miller with Hotch, huh?” 

You nod. “Is the rest of the team coming inside?”

He shakes his head. “No, we’re all going to the local station so the Gatlinburg Police Department can fax over the files on the shootings from a few years ago. We’re staying the night here.”

“And we’re leaving tomorrow morning for Harrisburg?” 

Rossi nods. “Yep.” He looks at you, giving you a soft smile. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine, Rossi,” you tell him, trying to muster up a little smile. “A little overwhelmed and still a little shocked, but I want answers. I’m determined to get answers.”

He nods. “That’s normal.” He squeezes your arm lightly. “I’m sure you’ll get them soon, piccola.”

You smile at him. “Thanks, Rossi.”

He walks away and you spot Spencer standing near one of the SUVs next to Prentiss. You walk over, fiddling with the opal wedding ring on your finger. 

“Hey,” Spencer says, giving you an encouraging smile.

“Hey, you,” you reply, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“I heard Hotch is letting you come with him.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “Are you ready?”

“Ready to confront the man that lied to me four years ago? Absolutely.” You catch his hand in yours and squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight. We are rooming together, after all.”

He laughs, the sound filling you with comfort. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Leaning in, he gives you a chaste kiss.

You release his hand and turn back toward the building, raising your eyebrows at Hotch. “Let’s go, boss.”

He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Don’t call me that.”

He leads you into the facility, showing the guards your badges and taking off your gun belts. The guards lead you through the facility, and you ignore the talk of the other inmates as you and Hotch walk. Eventually, you get led to a small room, and you look through the glass, your blood already starting to boil as you set your eyes on Tyler Miller.

He looks the same as he did four years ago—sunken green eyes, pale skin. His hair had grown out—the last time you saw him, it was shaved. It’s a dark black, laying straight on his head. His skinny frame is sitting with his back against a chair, his hands cuffed in front of him. The bright orange of the jumpsuit looks awful on him, baggy.

Hotch leads you inside, his eyes landing on Hotch first, then you. A flash of surprise runs through his face, his lips turning up into a wide smile.

“Well, Y/n, I never thought I’d see—“

“Shut up,” Hotch says, sitting down. “You don’t talk to her. You talk to me.”

Tyler raises his eyebrows as you two sit. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of you. Hotch folds his hands in front of him, looking at Tyler with an intensity that scares even you. 

“Joseph Y/l/n. How do you know him?” Hotch asks, his voice low.

“Joseph Y/l/n is dead,” Tyler says, gazing at Hotch unflinching.

“We both know that’s not true, Tyler.”

You keep your eyes on Tyler, noticing his gaze avert from Hotch for the briefest of moments, his hands clenching into fists. You smirk. _Got him_. 

“I killed Joseph Y/l/n,” Tyler says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No.” Hotch leans forward a bit. “Tell me how you knew him.”

Tyler’s silent for a moment before he speaks. “I met him when he moved to South Carolina. She wasn’t even born yet.” He gestures to you.

“Did you ever assist him in any of his kills?” Hotch asks, raising his eyebrows.

Tyler flares his nostrils. “No.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” you grumble, earning a glare from Hotch. 

“How did you help Joseph fake his death?” Hotch asks, turning his gaze back to Tyler.

“I didn’t. He’s dead.”

Hotch’s voice is steady. “I know you didn’t kill Joseph. You know you didn’t kill Joseph. So quit with the act and tell me how you did it.”

Tyler looks down before his eyes flit to you. “I’ll tell her. Not you.”

You look at Hotch, noticing how tense he’d gotten.

“No,” he says flatly.

“Then looks like you won’t be getting what you came here for, Mister FBI Agent.”

Hotch purses his lips before looking at you. You hold his gaze and Hotch stands. 

“You have five minutes. Then I’m coming back in this room.”

He exits and you turn your gaze back to Tyler, your face stony. 

“Tell me how you two did it.”

Tyler leans forward in his seat. “Your daddy asked me for a favor. We go way back, he and I. When he moved to Gatlinburg so did I. We were good friends and—“

“Cut the bullshit,” you say, resting your hands flat against the table. “I don’t give a fuck about any of that.” You know Hotch would yell at you later for cussing, but you don’t care. What I do care about is how you helped my dad fake his death. You lied to me.” You scoff, shaking your head. “I mean, you’re a criminal, and I can’t trust criminals. But wow, you sure were convincing. I was convinced for four whole years.” You hold his gaze. “Tell me how you did it,” you enunciate each word clearly, anger bubbling in your chest.

“As feisty as I remember,” Tyler mumbles, tilting his head as he looks at you. “Your dad came to me for a favor, like I said. A lot of people owe your daddy favors, in all sorts of lines of work. He told me he wanted to die—but not literally. So, he and I and a couple of other people from the hospital planned it.”

“Other people were in on this?” You ask, furrowing your brow.

Tyler gives you a shit-eating grin. “Like I said, a lot of people owe your daddy favors.”

You swallow, holding his gaze. “So, what? Did you really shoot him?”

Tyler nods. “Shot him in the arm. Medics came—the people who owed your dad favors, of course. Took him to the hospital. Patched him up, gave him different clothes, and he was off. Told the media he was dead. Haven’t heard from him since.” That last part is a lie—you know it is.

You shake your head. “But you knew he was a killer.”

“Honey, I’m a killer. He’s a killer. Isn’t it just something when you find out the people you love aren’t who you think they are?” Tyler raises his eyebrows. “And lemme guess. He’s killing again.”

You stand, looking at Tyler. “Thank you for _all_ of your help, Tyler. This is has been one hell of a reunion. Have fun on death row.”

As you walk toward the door, Tyler Miller says something that makes your blood run cold, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s only a matter of time before he finds out you’re looking for him. I’d hold that husband of yours real close to you. Your kids, too.”

Your hand curls into a fist as the buzzer sounds, the door opening for you. Hotch is standing by the glass, head snapping toward you as soon as the door opens. You clench your jaw, walking toward him.

“Did you hear all that?” 

“Yes.” Hotch’s voice is soft. “Don’t let him get to you. I’m sure Spencer and the kids are fine.”

You take a deep breath. “Can we increase the agents at Will’s place to three? Please? I can’t ignore a threat like that.”

Hotch nods. “Yes. For now, let’s go to the hotel. The team is meeting us there. We need rest before we to go Harrisburg.”

You follow the guards and Hotch out of the facility, climbing into the SUV passenger seat. The drive to the hotel is quiet, Hotch gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

“I remember him,” you say softly. “I remember Tyler from when I was younger, when we lived in South Carolina. It’s a blurry memory, but I remember him coming over one night. Mom had made spaghetti—one of my favorites. I remember Mom was drinking white wine. I was sitting at the dinner table when someone knocked on the door. Dad told Mom he’d get it and he pulled the guy into another room to talk. He looked at me first—the guy. I remember his eyes. I remember comparing his green eyes to the placemats on the table.” You furrow your brows. “I’m not sure why I remember it now, though. I didn’t recognize him when I saw him the first time.”

“The brain is weird that way,” Hotch says quietly. “Sometimes, many childhood memories are repressed. No one knows why they resurface when they do.”

You inhale deeply before exhaling through your nose. The rest of the drive is quiet and you’re thankful when Hotch pulls up to a swanky looking hotel.

“The Bureau put us up here for the night because of all the travelling we’re doing,” Hotch explains as you grab your go bag from the car. “I guess they want us to get a good night’s sleep.”

You smile softly at him as you walk into the hotel, eyes landing on Spencer first. He’s standing near the elevator, playing with the silver wedding band on his ring finger. You smile as you approach him, dropping your go bag and immediately wrapping your arms around him.

“Well, hello to you, too, my love,” Spencer says, kissing your forehead before squeezing you tight.

“Hi, love,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. After a moment, you two pull away from each other. “Come on, let’s go to our room.” You glance at the hotel bar. “I want to drink tonight because, frankly, I need to de-stress.”

You and Spencer step on the elevator and he grins, lacing his fingers through yours. He leans in, his lips by your ear.

“There are other ways to de-stress, too, sweetheart. Just let me know how _badly_ you want to unwind.” 

Turning your head, you grin at him, noticing the way his eyes flick to your lips then back up again. 

“Naughty boy,” you muse as the elevator dings, pulling him down the hall to your room. 

You push the keycard into the slot, Spencer letting the door shut behind him. You had just dropped your go bag on the ground when you feel Spencer’s hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. You grin and bring your lips to his, kissing him urgently. 

You unbutton his patterned white button down, pushing it off his arms and running your hand down his softly sculpted stomach. One thing that’s changed in four years—Spencer’s body. He’d gotten buffer, more toned. You weren’t complaining one bit, though.

He pulls your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra with one hand as his lips trail to your neck. He sucks on the little sweet spot on your neck, earning a moan from you as your nails dig into his stomach. He groans into your neck as his lips move down to your breasts, your hands twisting in his hair as he runs his tongue around one nipple and drags his tongue to the other side and repeating his actions. 

You unbutton your pants and pull them down, leaving you in your blue lacy panties, one of Spencer’s hands moving from your waist to your inner thighs, brushing along your slit lightly. You groan and push him away from you, moving back to lie on the bed. He grins, eyes dilated, as he unbuttons his own pants, discarding them and his boxers as he joins you on the bed. 

He pulls your panties down, throwing them over his shoulder before his tongue immediately connects with your clit, your hands flying to his hair. You cry out, throwing your head back as he envelops your clit with his mouth, tongue flicking rapidly over it. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, feeling him push two of his fingers inside of you.

You roll your head forward and lock eyes with him, already feeling your orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach. He curls his fingers inside of you, pushing deeper as you grip his hair tighter. It was long enough that you can actually twist some of it around your hand.

Right as you’re about to cum, he pulls his fingers and his mouth away, earning a whine from you.

“You asshole,” you mutter, groaning as he leaves small kisses up your body.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he says, nipping at your collarbone. “Be a good girl for me.”

“Or what, you’ll fuck me?” You tease, a shit-eating grin on your face.

Your mouth flies open as Spencer suddenly slams into you, his face hovering above yours, a loud moan flying past your lips.

“Maybe I will,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you hungrily, one of his hands moving to your neck.

All of your moans are muffled by his mouth, Spencer slipping his tongue inside as he fucks you at a relentless pace, hitting deep inside of you each time. You tug on his hair, his lips breaking apart from yours as he groans, resting his forehead on yours. His eyes search yours, a little smile on his lips.

You clench around him and he moans, his lips slightly parted. He’s fucking you so hard, you’re flying toward an orgasm, back arching slightly as you feel it approaching. He smirks, his hand leaving your neck and moving toward your clit, rubbing it in fast circles. You cry out as you’re forced over the edge, your pussy clenching and throbbing around his dick. Your legs shake slightly, Spencer’s name leaving your mouth repeatedly. 

His fingers leave your clit and move back to your neck, fucking you through your orgasm. He groans, panting softly as he nears his own orgasm. He presses his lips against yours, squeezing your neck slightly as he his thrusts falter. After a few seconds, he buries his dick inside of you, shooting his cum deep in your pussy. You groan against his lips as you feel the familiar sensation, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist.

He breaks the kiss, panting softly as his hazel eyes look at you. He releases his grasp from your neck, planting soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks before kissing your lips again. You pull him flush against you, clenching around his still sensitive dick, emitting a moan from Spencer.

Giggling, you pull away. “I’m glad I remembered to take my birth control today.”

Spencer laughs, pulling out of you and flopping on his back next to you. “Yeah, I think two is all we can handle right now.”

You get up and make your way to the bathroom, peeing and cleaning yourself up before you change into a pair of comfy clothes—cotton shorts and a t-shirt. Spencer dresses into his pajamas—tonight, it’s a pair of sweatpants and an old Caltech t-shirt. You rifle through your bag and pull out his old blue Caltech sweater you’ve practically stolen from him and put it on.

Holding out your hand, he takes it. “Come on, as nice as your dick is, I still want that drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for angst and smut! We love both of them!


	3. Old Cars and Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes to Harrisburg to investigate the latest killing from your father.

“When we touch down in Harrisburg, JJ and Morgan, go examine the abduction site. Reid and Prentiss, I need you two to go examine the body. Rossi, Y/l/n and I will go to the station and talk to the witness. Garcia, you’re coming with us to set up at the station.” Hotch leans forward in his seat.

“The victim’s name is Melissa Greene, correct?” You ask, glancing down at the tablet in front of you again.

“Correct. She has a husband and a sister, Victoria, that live in the area. Her husband is a lawyer—so they’re upper class,” Hotch explains.

“Gotcha.”

You lean back in your seat, fiddling with your wedding ring absent-mindedly. It’s become a nervous habit of yours—one Spencer notices. He grabs your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I know you’re nervous, but it’ll be okay,” he mumbles in your ear, giving your temple a soft kiss.

You turn toward him, sighing. “I know. What if we can’t narrow down a location? What if we can’t find him and he just keeps killing again?”

“Y/n,” Spencer says, holding your gaze. “We _will_ find him. I promise. Okay?”

You nod, exhaling deeply. “Okay.”

The plane touches down minutes after that, each member of the team getting in their respective SUVs. You, Hotch, Rossi, and Garcia head to the station, driving up the interstate to downtown. Harrisburg is pretty big—you almost forgot it was home to Hershey Park. Hotch parks the SUV outside of the station, and you all pile out of the vehicle and into the station. 

“You must be the FBI agents.” A tall man with a tuff of straight, red hair comes over to you all, a smile on his face. “Welcome to Harrisburg. I’m Sherriff Yates.”

Hotch nods. “I’m Agent Hotchner. These are Agents Rossi and Y/l/n, and our tech analyst Penelope Garcia.” Yates nods at all of us. “Garcia is going to get set up, could you show her where?”

“Of course,” Yates says. He scowls. “This murder has torn up the town, especially because it’s a rich lady. Everyone’s scared.”

You nod. “We understand. We’re going to do everything we can to help you guys out and try to find this man.” Your stomach turns. _This man, aka your fucking father_.

Yates gives an appreciative nod. “The witness, Eddie Garner, is sitting in one of the offices. He’s pretty shaken up.”

Rossi nods. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Yates leads Garcia away and another officer leads the three of you into a small office. Eddie, a young man dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a button up, sits nervous at a table. He has a black eye.

Hotch sits in the middle, you and Rossi sitting on either side of him. Hotch gives him a sympathetic smile, folding his hands in front of him. 

“Hello, I’m Agent Hotchner with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a couple questions about what you saw the night you saw Melissa get abducted if that’s alright,” Hotch says softly.

Eddie nods. “Of course.”

“Where were you when you saw the abduction take place?” Rossi asks, tilting his head.

The young man swallows, leaning forward in his seat slightly. “I was at the gym. I know Melissa from the gym—we’ve both been going there for a couple of years. We always park down the block and race to see who can get to the building the fastest and we always went at night.” He’s quiet for a moment. “After our workout, she left a couple of minutes before me. I, um, I was walking down the block to my car when I saw Melissa struggling with a man.”

“But it was dark, how could you have gotten close enough to see his face clearly?” You ask, furrowing your brow.

Eddie shifts in his seat. “I actually ran up to help stop him—I was going to attack him. He had one arm around Melissa, and I remember yelling for him to stop.” His voice is thick, like he’s about to start crying. “He turned toward me—and that’s when I saw his face. I tried, b-but I guess I wasn’t strong enough. He punched me so hard I fell down and all I remember hearing is Melissa screaming as he dragged her away.”

You clench your jaw, inhaling deeply. “This isn’t your fault, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Maybe if I left with her o-or was stronger, I could’ve helped her.”

Hotch looks at him, his gaze soothing. “Eddie, there’s nothing you could have done. This isn’t your fault.” 

“Did you happen to see what kind of car the man was driving?” Rossi asks.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, thinking. “I didn’t get a good look before he punched me—but after hitting the ground, I remember seeing a black minivan. It was blurry but I know it was black.”

“Was it a Honda Odyssey?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat.

“I-I don’t know, it could have been. I didn’t get a good look. I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, his voice breaking a little.

“It’s okay, Eddie. Thank you for your time.” Hotch stands, and you and Rossi follow suit, following him out of the office.

The three of you go to Garcia. She’s finished setting up—her two computer screens active and ready to go. She smiles when you guys enter the room, twiddling her fuzzy pink pen in her fingers.

“Please tell me I can do something to help,” she says, her eyes flicking to you.

Hotch turns his head toward you. “Why did you suggest a Honda Odyssey?”

You rock back and forth on your heels slightly. “It was the car my dad owned when we were little. When we moved to Gatlinburg, I thought he got rid of it. He could still have it and be using it now. If he’s as good of a serial killer as we think he is, there’s no way he’d be using his regular car.”

“Do you know what year the car is?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember. “Uh…nineteen ninety-seven or eight, I think. It’s an older model. It used to be registered under his name, but he could have it registered under God knows what now. Plus, he’d have different tags.”

“Garcia, look up any black Honda Odyssey’s that were bought in Blythewood from nineteen ninety-seven to nineteen ninety-eight. See if we can find the original vehicle Joseph had when he lived there. We may not have the plates, but if you find it, we’ll have the VIN number. We can use that to find the plates.”

“Say less, my liege.”

While she’s typing, you turn toward Hotch and Rossi. “My dad could be working with a partner. Or multiple partners. You heard Tyler—a lot of people owe him favors. We don’t know how big this web extends, and that scares me.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We also have no idea when or where he’s going to strike next.”

“We need a map in here,” you mutter. “We need to trace his kills, see if he’s been going in a specific direction that past four years.”

Rossi turns on his heels to go to Yates about a map, and Garcia’s head whips up.

“So, normally searching car records takes time because everyone is always buying cars all the time. Thankfully, Blythewood is tiny, especially back in the nineties, and after searching records I came upon a nineteen ninety-seven black Honda Odyssey registered to Joseph Y/l/n.” Garcia smiles proudly at you and Hotch. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get any hits on the original plates, which means he either has stolen plates or after he left Blythewood the car was reregistered to someone else, therefore, new plates.”

Hotch nods. “Does it say the car belongs to anyone now?”

Garcia types quickly. “Uh, yes, actually.” As she reads, her voice gets slower, the realization hitting her. “Four years ago, the car was registered to someone named Hunter Garrison.”

“Can you track the plates?” 

After a moment, Garcia speaks up again. “The car is in Enola, Pennsylvania, which is only about ten miles from here.”

“He had to have abandoned it,” you say as Rossi comes back in with a big map, pinning it on the board. “There’s no way he’d keep the car—especially after someone saw him drive away in it.”

“Garcia, research all you can about Hunter Garrison. I want his life story.”

“Your wish is my command, great king.”

“Rossi, pin the locations of all the murders the past four years. Y/l/n and I are going to check out the car.”

“You got it,” Rossi says, opening his tablet.

You and Hotch turn to leave when you see Spencer and Prentiss approaching. Hotch raises his eyebrows.

“What did you guys find?”

“All of the torture on the victim was done before death,” Spencer says. “Absolutely no marks were left post-mortem _except_ the ring fingers being cut off. There was a distinct lack of blood flow to where the incisions were made. It’s also like Joseph was in a hurry to get the fingers off as well—it was almost like they were half cut, half torn off.”

“Jesus,” you groan, your stomach flipping in the worst possible way.

“Other than that, victimology looks the same as it does on the other victims,” Prentiss says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Good job. Go help Rossi, we’re trying to see if there’s a pattern in the murders to see if Joseph is traveling in a certain direction. We need to try to narrow down where he’ll be next.”

Prentiss and Spencer nod, Spencer giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as he walks by you. You and Hotch walk out to the SUV, and you climb into the passenger seat, pulling out your phone.

“Do you mind if I call Will? I just wanna make sure my kids are okay,” you say, fiddling with your phone.

Hotch nods and you give him a thankful nod, dialing Will’s number and putting the phone to your ear. After a couple rings, Will answers.

“Hey, Y/n,” he says, a smile in his voice.

“Hey, Will,” you say, smiling softly. “I hate to bother you, but—”

“But you wanna speak to your little ones. I understand.” You hear him call Joseph over.

“Hi, mama!” Joseph says into the phone.

Tears prick in the corners of your eyes, your smile growing wider. “Hi, honey. How’s everything at Uncle Will’s?”

“It’s good!” He says excitedly. “Me and Michael have played with all of his toys and tonight we get to watch Star Wars!”

“Ooh, which one?” You ask him, leaning your head back against the headrest. Hotch glances at you, a little smile on his face.

“The fifth one,” Joseph answers. “That’s daddy’s favorite.”

You laugh softly. “It is daddy’s favorite. How’s your sister?”

“She’s good, too. Uncle Will holds her all the time. She cries a lot, but I think she just misses you, mama.”

Your lower lip trembles, and you try to keep your voice as even as possible. “I miss both of you so much, big man. I know daddy does, too.”

“I miss you, too, mama,” he says into the phone.

You wipe a tear that escapes your eye, sniffing softly. “Okay, big man, go play with Michael. Give the phone back to Uncle Will. I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too, mama.”

You hear him hand the phone back to Will, his voice filling the other end.

“How are things going?” He asks, his voice quiet.

“They’re alright, Will. We’re in Harrisburg now, but I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

“Well, that’s okay. You don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

You nod. “Thanks, Will. I’ll call you in a couple days.”

You hang up, shoving the phone back in your pocket. 

“I know it’s hard,” Hotch says quietly.

“It is,” you reply, staring out the window.

“We will find him, Y/n,” Hotch whispers as the car slows.

You’re silent as you unbuckle your seat belt. Getting out of the car, you stand on the side of the road, your eyes looking at the forgotten vehicle in front of you. You and Hotch approach carefully, guns drawn just in case. After clearing, you shove the gun back in the holster, looking at where you two are.

You’re in the middle of nowhere, it seems like. Forest surrounds you on both sides, the Honda parked in the dirt on the side of the road. You and Hotch go to the SUV to put on some gloves, going to search the car.

“You search the trunk, I’ll search the back,” Hotch says.

You nod and open the trunk carefully. Small splatters of dried blood line the carpet of the trunk and you grimace. Something catches your eye and you grab it. A small piece of paper folded four times lies in your hand.

“Hotch.”

He walks over to you and you hold up the paper. 

_I’m just getting started_. 

You look to Hotch, nostrils flaring. “Let’s go back to the team.”

You and Hotch race back, you practically slamming the car door when you exit the SUV. You try to keep your cool as you walk into the station, making your way to the small room where the team is, JJ and Morgan having returned from the abduction site.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, noticing the look on your face.

You slap the piece of paper down in front of them. “We found this in the trunk of the car.”

The team reads the note and exchange glances with one another. Hotch looks at Rossi, crossing his arms in front of him.

“What do his murders say about him geologically?”

Rossi turns, looking at the map. “He started in Maine, and he’s working his way south. I suspect he’s traveling to Virginia next.”

You turn to Hotch. “I want increased agents at Will’s. If he’s going to Virginia, he has a chance of finding me and Spencer’s kids, Hotch.”

“I’ll contact the Bureau to see what they can do.” He inhales deeply before turning to Garcia. “Did you find anything on Hunter Garrison?”

“Did I? You underestimate me, sir.” She looks at her screen. “Hunter Garrison was born in nineteen seventy-six, which makes him about twenty-five when Joseph left Blythewood. He was raised with an absent father and a mother who was addicted to heroin, so he had a _great_ childhood—she died five years ago.”

“So, a man raised with neglect and abuse,” you mutter. ‘Perfect.”

“He’s lived in Blythewood his entire life. Was a high school dropout, didn’t go to college, works at a small hardware store in Blythewood.”

You sigh, looking at Hotch. The two of you share a look, Morgan furrowing his brow.

“Why are you two looking at each other like that?”

“Because,” Hotch says, looking at the team, “now we have to go to Blythewood.”

“Great,” you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Time to go back to my childhood home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for such a late update. I'm writing two other fics on Wattpad so it gets hard to manage time sometimes. Thank you to everyone who's reading the sequel! It means so much to me! I appreciate all of you guys so much <3


	4. Packages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to go to your hometown of Blythewood and interrogate a man who might be working with your father.

You cross your arms in front of amphitheater, a warm breeze blowing through your hair. Scowling, you look around you at absolutely fucking _nothing_. That’s what Blythewood is—nothing. You watch the team in a circle by one of the SUV’s and you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

You thought you’d feel something when you arrived in Blythewood—but you didn’t. All you feel is angry and sad and _tired_. So tired. After a moment, you open your eyes, walking over to the team.

Your hand finds Spencer’s as soon as he’s in reach, and he turns his head to you, smiling softly. His sunglasses sit on his face, his hair blowing around in the wind. He squeezes your hand lightly and you tune into the conversation.

“Y/l/n, you and Reid are going to question Hunter Garrison.”

“Excuse me?” You reply, glancing at Spencer. “I thought we weren’t allowed to do things like this together?”

“Odds are, Hunter Garrison knew your father when he was living here,” Hotch explains. “He might recognize you, he might not. He might try to push your buttons—and that’s what Spencer is there for. He calms you down.”

You inhale deeply. “Okay.”

“We’re trying to find out if he’s actively your dad’s partner or if he knows who is,” Rossi states, crossing his arms. “Like you said, we don’t know how many people are a part of this.”

“We’ll be at the station; you and Reid can meet us there when you’re finished with Hunter.”

“Perfect,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek.

Spencer tugs at your head. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go.”

You get into the passenger’s side, buckling your seatbelt and leaning your head against the headrest. Spencer starts the SUV, glancing over at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand reaching over to grip your thigh. He begins the drive to Hunter’s house.

You smile at him, placing your hand on top of his. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“You’re stressed,” he notices, his thumb running across the fabric of your pants.

“I’m just tired,” you reply, inhaling deeply. “I miss two weeks ago when the worst thing I had to worry about was what I was going to make for dinner.”

Spencer laughs. “Me, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I talked to Will this morning.”

Your eyes light up. “How are they?”

“They’re good; they miss us,” Spencer says. “I thought about putting them in a safe house.”

You shake your head. “No, Spence. I don’t want Will or his kids to go through that.”

“I thought about having us _all_ go to a safe house,” Spencer repeats, and you rub your thumb over his hand.

“I couldn’t sit around and wait, Spence, you know me better than that.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I just don’t want him to hurt my family.”

“He won’t,” you repeat, gripping his hand. “If he so much as looks at my babies, I’ll put a bullet in his head myself.”

As confident as your words are, your chest aches at the thought. How could your loving dad—the same dad who called you “little dove” and watched Netflix with you while you were growing up—be evil? How could he be someone who caused so much pain in the world?

You push your hand underneath Spencer’s, lacing your fingers through his. Hotch is right—his touch _is_ comforting. It’s what you need. 

After about fifteen minutes, the SUV rolls into Hunter’s driveway. You get out of the car, Spencer joining you by your side. Spencer stops you before you reach the porch, gripping your arm lightly.

“Do you want to use my last name or your dads? Do you want him to know you’re related to him?” Spencer asks, his hazel eyes searching yours.

You hesitate for a moment. “Yours.”

Spencer gives you a small smile. “Okay.”

The two of you walk up the front porch steps, and Spencer knocks on the old wooden door. After a moment, a man in his forties answers the door. He’s about Spencer’s height, with graying black hair and a beer belly. His blue eyes flick from you to Spencer.

“Who are you?”

Clearing your throat, you hold up your badge. “I’m Agent Reid, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we’re here to ask you some questions.”

“About what?” Hunter asks, gripping the door defensively.

“About Joseph Y/l/n,” Spencer replies coolly.

In one swift motion, Hunter turns on his heels, heading for the back door. You look at Spencer, drawing your gun.

“You take the back.”

You rush into the house, chasing after Hunter, almost tripping over strewn beer cans and trash. You run out the back door right after him, watching him run into Spencer. You run toward them, watching Hunter slam his fist into the side of Spencer’s face. Your husband stumbles back, and rage courses through your veins. In one motion, you tackle Hunter to the ground, pinning him flat on his stomach, gun pressed to his neck.

“You’re under arrest for assaulting a federal agent and for the obstruction of an official investigation,” you say, Spencer stumbling over to you to help you cuff him. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

“Fuck you,” Hunter spits as Spencer forces him up. 

You sheathe your gun, sharing a look with Spencer. The two of you walk around to the SUV, Spencer forcing Hunter into the back and locking the doors. You face Spencer, turning his head to the side to examine his quickly bruising eye.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, tenderly poking around the area.

Spencer winces. “Yes. I’m fine though. It’s just a black eye.”

You nod, running your thumb right above his jaw. “Call Morgan. He can take Hunter back to the station. We need to look in the house.”

Spencer pulls out his phone, and you go into the trunk of the SUV, pulling out a pair of gloves. You put them on, grabbing a couple of evidence bags and going inside of Hunter’s house. 

The small house is dingy and trashy. You make your way into the living room, looking around for anything that could be used as evidence. Unless whiskey and porn DVDs could be used, there’s nothing in the living room. Sighing, you move through the hallway, opening one of the doors. Hunter’s bedroom—a small bed in no frame rests on the ground, a couple of shotguns rest beside the bed. You tilt your head, noticing a burner phone on the bedside table.

You slip the phone in an evidence bag, pulling out your own phone and calling Garcia.

“Hello, my beautiful sunflower, what can I do for you today?”

You grin. “Garcia, I have a burner phone here. I know it’s hard, but do you think you could get into it and see who he’s been calling or texting? It might be linked to my father.”

“You underestimate my computer genius. Do you have the serial number?”

You read the number off the phone, telling Garcia you’ll drop the phone off for her at the station when you arrive. Putting your phone back in your pocket, you move to Hunter’s closet, opening the door. The first thing you notice is a shoebox. Pulling it out carefully, you set it on his bed, opening the lid.

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Letters. Tons of letters. You flip through some of them, shaking your head. 

“Did you find anything?”

Whipping your head around, you look at Spencer, nodding. “I found a burner phone and tons of letters.” Grinning at him, you lift the box, offering it to him. “I know what you’re going to be doing for the next couple hours.”

***

“Did you find anything, Garcia?” You ask her, leaning against the front of the desk.

Garcia nods, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I found a series of texts and calls to another burner phone. The texts are all pretty vague, nothing specific about them.”

“Can you trace the other burner phone?” 

Garcia grimaces. “I’m trying, but burner phones are literally designed to _not_ be traced. I’ll give you an update when I have one, okay, sunshine?”

“Okay, Garcia,” you say, smiling.

Walking over to Hotch, you look through the one-way glass at Hunter. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and you sigh.

“He has to be working with my father. Why else would he run?” You mutter.

Hotch raises his eyebrows. “Let’s find out.”

“I’m not going in there with Spencer?” 

“Spencer might agitate him. Hunter _did_ punch him in the face, after all.”

Hotch walks into the interrogation room first, you follow. Hunter scowls as he looks up at you, and you keep your face neutral as you sit down.

“So, Hunter, tell us about Joseph Y/l/n,” Hotch begins.

“No,” Hunter replies, keeping his gaze on you.

You meet his bloodshot eyes, tilting your head. “Yes. Tell us about him _now_.”

“You look like him, you know,” Hunter says, narrowing his eyes. “You might try to hide it behind your husband’s last name, but you can’t get rid of who you are.”

You clench your jaw. “Tell us where he is.”

“You won’t find him,” Hunter says. 

“Listen,” you seethe, standing up and letting your palms rest flat on the table. “You’re really starting to get on my last nerve. Not only am I in my childhood home, which I barely remember, today alone, you’ve managed to punch my husband and insult me. So how about instead of playing dumb, which you know, you _are_ in most ways; why don’t you tell us what we need to know.”

“What’s in it for me?” He asks, eyes flicking to Hotch.

“Nothing,” Hotch says lowly, holding Hunter’s gaze.

“You’re aiding a criminal in a federal investigation,” you tell him. “So, we can either tell the judge you cooperated, or you didn’t. Which do you want?”

The scowl returns to Hunter’s face. “I don’t know where he is. I only know where he’s going.”

“Where is that?”

“Virginia.”

“Why?”

“To see you.”

You look at Hotch, who meets your alarmed gaze with intense eyes. You turn around and exit the interrogation room, the rest of the team walking over to you. 

“Garcia got a trace on the phone,” JJ says, her eyes filled with worry.

“Where is he?” You ask, glancing at Spencer.

“Really close to D.C.”

You glance at Hotch, your stomach churning. “We need to go.”

“Everyone get to the jet,” Hotch says urgently.

Spencer grips your hand as the team races to the jet, and you all pile on in a hurry. In less than fifteen minutes, the wheels are off the ground, and you fidget in your seat. Spencer puts his hand on your thigh, and you turn to look at him.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he whispers.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You kiss him back, his hand squeezing your thigh a little tighter. After a moment, you two break apart, and you kiss his nose.

“Thanks, baby.” You furrow your brows. “Did you read the letters?”

“Some of them. I think he’s been communicating with your father, but they use code names. Everything’s in code.”

“We can work on that later,” you mutter, gripping Spencer’s hand.

The ride to Quantico is short—only about forty-five minutes. You tap your fingers nervously against the armrest as the minutes go by, the rest of the team completely silent. They’re worried just as much as you are.

As soon as the jet stops, Hotch leads the way back to Headquarters, and you push open the doors to the BAU. You slow as you approach your desk, a small package sitting by your computer catching your eye.

“Hey, guys,” you say, approaching the package carefully. “There’s something over here.”

Spencer’s by your side in an instant, his hand on your lower back. The rest of the team crowds around your desk, and you tear open the box slowly. Pulling back the flaps, your heart practically stops in your chest as you look up at Spencer.

A stuffed purple dinosaur.

Your _son’s_ stuffed purple dinosaur.

Speckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh, what do you guys think so far? I think it's getting crazy. I hope Joseph hasn't done anything to the Reader's kids. She'll go ballistic.


	5. Little Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After calling Will, the team has a briefing about what Spencer and the Reader's next steps should be.

“How did he get the toy?”

Joseph squirms in your lap, holding one of your hands in his two tiny ones, playing with the ring on your finger. Will looks at you, wide-eyed, shaking his head.

“I-I don’t know. The agents at the house didn’t see anything, I never heard anything. I swear.” Will glances over at JJ, preoccupied with her two boys.

You glance up at Spencer, his arms holding Rhiannon tightly. He catches your eye and gives you a little smile, Rhiannon letting out a bunch of gurgles, her little laugh ringing out around the room. Spencer smiles down at his daughter, and you rub Joseph’s back.

“Joseph, honey, you didn’t see anyone come into the house to ask you for Speckles?”

He shakes his head. “No, mama. One night after I woke up, he was gone. It made me sad,” Joseph pouts, looking up at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “JJ, can you take them? Or maybe Garcia can watch them for a minute? We need to talk to the rest of the team.”

JJ nods. “Sure, yeah.” She walks over to Joseph, and he slides off your lap. “Wanna go play with Michael?”

Joseph nods eagerly, staggering over to the young boy. JJ gives Spencer a little smile as she goes to take Rhiannon. Spencer gives Rhiannon a little kiss on her forehead before letting her go. You stand, lacing your fingers with Spencer’s as you walk into the roundtable room.

It had been thirty minutes since you’d found Speckles—and proceeded to freak the fuck out. Spencer had immediately called Will, who sounded completely and utterly confused to find a frantic Spencer on the other end of the line. Will had brought the kids over as soon as Spencer had called—and even though they’re safe, you still feel like you’re going to throw up.

“So, here’s what presumably happened,” you start, not releasing Spencer’s hand. You need some type of physical support. “Someone—it could’ve been my dad; it could’ve been someone he’s working with—someone broke into Will and JJ’s house and stole Speckles.”

“They didn’t touch the kids, though,” Rossi muses, knitting his eyebrows together.

Spencer shakes his head. “No, but they could have. A killer was inches away from my kids.” His unoccupied hand clenched into a fist, and you notice the tight clench of his jaw.

You rub your thumb over his hand, and he looks at you, unclenching his jaw. “Either way, my family isn’t safe. And neither is Will and JJ’s.” You throw Will an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you guys into this.”

“It’s alright,” Will says, giving you a small smile.

“So, obviously his tactic right now is fear,” Hotch says quietly. “He wants you to know he has the upper hand. He could’ve harmed your kids—but he didn’t. He chose not to. He wants you to know he has all the power.”

“But why? What’s his endgame?” Morgan asks, a heavy sigh leaving him.

“We’re not even part of his MO. We’re outside of his signature,” you say, shaking your head.

“It’s because we’re onto him,” Prentiss replies. 

“Then why isn’t he targeting _all_ of us?” You ask the team sternly, glancing at their faces.

The team is quiet, and you let out a heavy sigh. Spencer releases your hand, and instead, wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Spencer says quietly. “Either he’s devolving, or he has another plan up his sleeve—neither of which I like.”

Hotch is silent for a moment. “The first thing that needs to happen is you two and your kids need to get to a safe house.”

You clench your jaw, body stiffening slightly against Spencer. The last thing you want is for your family to get hurt—but you _need_ to be working this case. You can’t just not help the team while your fucking dad goes around killing people for no reason. Spencer notices your change of demeanor, and he squeezes your waist softly.

“We need to do what’s best for the kids,” he whispers.

You turn your head to look at him, giving him a small smile. “I know.”

“I’ll have Garcia set up some burner phones for you two so we can keep in touch,” Hotch explains. “I promise you will be kept in the loop on this case.”

You nod, biting your cheek. You know that won’t be enough. You want to actively be working on the case, not just getting updates. Inhaling deeply, you give the team a small smile. 

“I want to know everything. If I can’t actively be working this case, I want everything else.”

Rossi raises his eyebrows. “We gotcha, kid.”

“The safehouse will be here in D.C.; that way you two are close just in case something happens.”

You shudder at the thought, Spencer’s fingers digging into your waist. “Okay, Hotch. I trust you. Send us the address to the burner phones. We’ll go get them from Garcia.” You turn to Will. “Can you drive the kids back to your place and bring their stuff to the safe house? We’ll meet you there.”

Will nods. “Sure thing.”

You look at the team, giving them a grateful smile. “Thank you, guys. For everything. I don’t know how we’ll repay you.”

Prentiss gives you a smile. “It’s our job to help, Y/n.”

You give her a smile before looking up at Spencer. The two of you walk out of the roundtable room, heading to Garcia’s little cave. Walking inside, she shoots up from her chair, encircling both of you in a big hug. You hug her back, smiling softly. She pulls away, looking at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Are you two okay?” She asks softly.

“We’re…coping?” Spencer says, a slight hesitancy in his voice.

“Well, I have two burner phones for you and Hotch has already sent the address to the safe house to both off them,” she says.

She digs picks up two small phones and hands one to you, the other to Spencer. You push the phone in your pocket, reaching out to switch your other one off. Garcia gives you and Spencer a soft look.

“I love you both. And we will try our hardest to take this asshole down.”

“We love you, too, Garcia,” you say, giving her another hug.

You grasp Spencer’s hand and walk out of Garcia’s cave, spotting Will and JJ with the hoard of children. Grinning, you walk over to Joseph, holding his reclaimed Speckles, bending down to his height.

“Hey, buddy,” you say.

“Do we get to go home now, mama?” He asks, his big hazel eyes looking into yours.

You run your fingers through the mop of curls on his head, your heart aching in your chest. “No, buddy, not yet. But guess what? We do get to go on a little vacation, all of us, together.”

“Daddy, too?” He asks, looking up at Spencer.

Spencer grins, leaning down to give his son a little kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah, daddy, too.”

“Yay!” Joseph squeals, clutching Speckles to his chest.

Standing, you look at JJ and Will. “You guys are the absolute best. Seriously.”

JJ walks over to you, Rhiannon in her arms. “Hey, it’s no big deal, okay? You’d do this for us.”

You put your hand on Rhiannon’s head, her big eyes looking up at you. You give her a little kiss on the forehead, watching Spencer do this same. You give them one last look before you and Spencer grab your go bags and walk outside. Morgan stops the two of you, holding up a pair of keys.

“Here, you guys need these,” he says, tossing Spencer the keys. “You can’t drive your own car.”

Spencer gives him a nod. “Thanks, Morgan.”

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy,” Morgan grins. “House key is attached to the key ring. Be safe you two.”

Spencer clicks the lock button and a red car off to the side of the parking lot beeps. The two of you practically jog to the car, Spencer unlocking it and sliding into the driver’s seat, turning on the car as you slide into the passenger’s seat. You buckle your seat belt, letting out a deep exhale as your head hits the headrest.

He pulls out the phone and his eyes flick over the address quickly before shoving the phone in his pocket. He pulls out of the spot and begins the drive to the safe house, his hand on your thigh. He rubs it soothingly, trying to calm the rapid heartbeat in your chest. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he whispers. “No one is going to hurt us. No one is going to hurt the kids. The team’s got this.”

“I know, baby,” you reply quietly. “I just can’t help but be worried.”

You put your hand on top of his, lacing your fingers through his. The drive is quiet, and eventually Spencer’s touch makes your heart slow. Eventually, the two of you pull up to an older looking house. You grab your go bag and get out, adjusting the gun on your hip. Spencer unlocks the front door, and the two of you walk inside.

It's small—living room, kitchen, a couple bathrooms. Two rooms, one for the kids and one for you and Spencer. Sighing, you set the go bag on the ground, crossing your arms as you look around the room.

“Spence, I have a bad feeling about this.”

He turns to look at you. He crosses the short distance to you, reaching out to rest his hands on your arms. “Hey, it’s okay.”

You shake your head. “No, there’s something wrong.”

“Hey,” he says firmly, his voice still soft. “Repeat after me: everything will be okay.”

You take a deep breath, looking into his comforting hazel eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

“Good.” He leans down, giving you a small kiss. You kiss him back, his hands moving to cup your face. A knock sounds at the door, and you pull back. “That must be Will.”

The next two minutes of your life are in slow motion. 

Spencer opens the door, a loud grunt coming from him as a piece of metal comes in contact with his face. He drops to the ground, out cold. 

“Spence!” You cry out, eyes grazing over his body. He’s breathing. _He’s breathing_. Just unconscious, with a gash across the left side of his forehead.

Your eyes flick up to the hooded figure walking through the door. Your fingers fiddle with your gun holster, your hand wrapping around the gun and pulling it free. The intruder swings the metal toward you, and you side-step, the metal making contact with the small table behind you, cracking it in half. You point the gun at the figure, but he grips your wrist, twisting it back until you cry out in pain, dropping the gun. You try to rip your wrist from the figure’s grasp, kicking out your leg to try to sweep them off their feet. 

Unfortunately, it’s no avail, a sharp pain spreads across the side of your face before your world goes dark.

***

“JJ, we’re fine, I promise.”

JJ sighs, leaning her elbow against the window of the car. “I know, honey. The thought of someone being in that house with you…he could’ve hurt you. Or the kids.” She keeps her voice low, throwing a glance back at the kids strapped in the back of the car.

Will nods, giving his wife a comforting pat on the thigh. “I know. But we’re all fine.”

Will pulls up to the safe house and immediately, JJ goes on high alert. The front door is open. JJ unbuckles her seatbelt, unholstering her gun.

“Hey, stay here with the kids, okay?” 

Will nods and she opens the car door, stepping out and shutting it behind her. She glances at the car Spencer and Y/n must’ve driven here, noticing the fresh car tracks beside it. A small trail of blood leads out the door and disappears a few feet in front of it. Narrowing her eyes, she raises her gun, kicking the door open slightly.

The first thing she notices is a small pool of blood right beside the door, Spencer’s revolver laying right next to it. She glances around the house, walking a few steps further inside. A trail of blood leads right next to a cracked wooden table. Glancing down at the ground, JJ sees more blood and a discarded gun. Y/n’s gun.

A piece of paper rests on the ground, and JJ glances around the house, keeping her gun raised as she walks into the kitchen. She grabs a paper towel and walks back over to the note, unfolding it carefully. She reads the words and holsters her gun, pulling out her phone.

“Agent Hotchner.”

“Hotch, the team needs to get to the safe house now.”

“Why?”

“Y/n and Spencer have been kidnapped.”

JJ hangs up the phone, glancing down at the note again.

_”If you want to find them, all you have to do is follow the sounds of the little dove. Don’t take too long, agents. She’s not alone_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, SHIT Y'ALL. Spencer and Y/N have been KIDNAPPED. How crazy.  
> I'm so glad you all are enjoying this fic! I love and appreciate you guys and all your comments!


	6. Bugs and Churches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team frantically tries to find Spencer and the reader.

“Let’s start with what we know.”

Hotch places his hands flat on the table, looking around at the team. 

JJ sighs, leaning her elbow on the table. “Whoever took them knew where they were going to be.”

“Which means one of two things: this place is bugged, or the unsub works closely with us,” Morgan says.

“Or both,” Prentiss replies.

“The unsub could work with her dad,” Rossi says. “Or against him. Like Y/n said a few days ago, we don’t know how many people are involved in this.”

Hotch closes his eyes. “JJ, the kids are in the bullpen, right?”

JJ nods. “They’re with Will.”

“Call Jamie. See if she can come help Will watch them.”

JJ nods, pulling out her phone. Hotch stands up straight before walking out of the roundtable room, crossing to where Will’s standing with Y/n and Spencer’s kids. Hotch smiles, bending down to come face to face with Joseph.

“Hey, buddy,” Hotch says. Hotch has a soft spot for Joseph—his middle name _is_ Aaron, after all. 

“Hi, Uncle Aaron,” Joseph says. “Where are mama and daddy?”

Hotch’s smile wavers before he answers. “They just went on a little trip. But they should be back soon, okay, buddy?” Hotch’s eyes flicks to the purple dinosaur in Joseph’s hand. “I like your friend.”

Joseph hugs the dinosaur to his chest. “Thanks! Speckles is my favorite.”

“Can I see it really quick, buddy? I just have to check and make sure Speckles isn’t hurt from his little trip here.”

Joseph nods, handing Hotch the dinosaur. Hotch stands, turning around to examine the stuffed figure. He squeezes it slightly, his eyebrows coming together when he feels it. Something hard. Hotch runs his fingers along the animal before finding a small hole on the bottom of the dinosaur. Squeezing the hard object down through the stuffing, which is harder than it sounds, Hotch dislodges the small rectangular object, holding it gently between his fingers before turning around and handing the dinosaur back to Joseph.

“Is he alright?” Joseph asks, taking Speckles back from Hotch.

Hotch nods. “Mhm, he sure is.” Ruffling his hair, Hotch stands up before turning around, the small smile on his face turning to a frown. 

He makes eye contact with the team, holding up the small rectangle. He turns on his heels, walking to Garcia’s cave. Her head whips toward him as soon as she hears his footsteps, her eyes widening.

“Sir, I—”

“It’s a bug.” Hotch places the small object in front of Garcia. “Someone bugged Joseph’s stuffed animal. The same one that was left as a package for Y/n.”

“Oh,” Garcia says softly, taking the bug between her fingers. “Give me a few minutes. Let me see if I can turn it off or something.”

“Thanks, Garcia. I need you to also run any sort of communication between Y/n and her father. Whether it be old texts, calls, emails. We need everything. I also want video footage of when we were out of town—I want to see who delivered that package.” Garcia nods, turning to her computer. “We’ll be in the roundtable room.”

Hotch turns back around and takes long strides through the bullpen into the roundtable room. He finds Prentiss staring at the note intensely, shaking her head. 

“What does ‘little dove’ mean?” She asks, glancing up at the team.

The team is silent—because they don’t know. The only two people who know what that pet names means are kidnapped. Hotch leans against the table. 

“So, Speckles was bugged. Garcia’s trying to find a way to turn it off or trace the manufacturer. Maybe if we get a brand it could narrow down who uses them.”

“I feel like…I don’t know, Hotch, I feel like another agent could be in on this.”

“So,” Hotch starts, “nothing leaves this room. We don’t talk about this to anyone else. It’s like Y/n said: we don’t know who we can trust.” He’s silent for a moment. “I have Garcia running any sort of communication Y/n used to have with her father.”

Morgan nods. “That’s good. Maybe it’ll give us a clue on…I don’t know, something.”

“The note seems oddly personal,” Rossi says. “Maybe the attacker knows Y/n or Spencer.”

“What did the crime scene tell us?” Hotch asks, raising his eyebrows.

“The attacker had a weapon—they came prepared,” JJ says aloud. “They weren’t worried about their guns. They knew they had the upper hand.”

“Surprise is a strong weapon,” Rossi states. “The fact the unsub disarmed them and didn’t bother taking their guns.”

“Either he’s strong or he’s working with a partner,” Morgan says. “He had to drag two bodies away from the crime scene.”

“Probably driving a van by the looks of the tire marks.”

Hotch is silent. “This is my fault.”

“Hotch, it’s not—”

“No, it is. I’m the one who decided to send them to the safe house. We should’ve checked if anything was wrong with Speckles beforehand. This is my fault.”

The team is quiet for a moment, the clack of Garcia’s heels on the tile floor echoing off the walls. She pokes her head in the room.

“Guys, come here.”

The team follows Garcia into her cave, a heavy silence hanging over the group. Garcia sits back in her chair, holding up the bug. 

“It’s an RF—radio transmitter. It’s connected to a receiver, and your girl here just worked her magic and intercepted the transmission.” Garcia smiles proudly at the group.

“Do you know where the receiver is, baby girl?” Morgan asks, leaning against Garcia’s desk.

“Yeah, actually, it’s right here in D.C.,” Garcia explains, motioning to her computer. She hesitates a moment. “It’s coming from the address of another federal agent—Noah Rex.” Hotch opens his mouth to speak but Garcia interrupts him. “And before you ask, yes, the address is already sent to your phones.”

Hotch nods. “Let’s suit up and head out. Garcia, if you find anything recurring in Y/n and Joseph’s messages, let me know.”

The team throws on their FBI vests, running into Jamie on their way out of the bullpen, Kyle trailing behind her. Jamie’s eyes widen, clutching her phone in her hand.

“Jamie,” JJ says, giving her a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Have you guys found them yet?” She asks, eyes searching the team. 

“Not yet, but we have a lead,” Morgan explains.

“Where are the kids?” 

“With Will.” JJ motions toward Will in the bullpen. “Stay here with Will.”

Kyle reaches down, squeezing Jamie’s hand. “It’s alright, J. They’ll find them.”

Jamie smiles gratefully at Kyle before brushing past the team, walking over to the kids. Joseph yells in surprise, wrapping his tiny arms around Jamie’s legs. Kyle takes Rhiannon from Will, giving him a break. The team looks at each other before walking out of the bullpen, piling into two SUVs. 

The team drives in silence, driving quickly to the address Garcia had sent over. A car sits in the driveway, and Hotch parks outside. The team files out of both SUVs, Hotch looking at them seriously.

“Morgan and I will take the outside. Everyone else go around back. We need all angles covered in case he tries to run. He won’t know we’re coming.”

“Surprise is on our side,” Rossi mutters, raising his eyebrows.

The team nods and Hotch steps out of the car, unholstering his gun. He nods at the team, and he and Morgan walk up to the front door. Hotch counts to three and Morgan kicks the door open, a man, presumably Noah, immediately standing up from the couch. 

“FBI! Noah Rex, put your hands up.”

Noah raises his hands, a look is disdain painted on his face as Hotch walks over to him, cuffing him. He and Morgan usher Noah—with a little more force than necessary—out of his house. They get into the SUVs, driving quickly back to Quantico. They usher Noah into the building, placing him in an interrogation room with an officer.

Hotch stares at the man sitting at the table. Mid-30s. Black hair. Clean shaven. He narrows his eyes, trying to remember where he’d seen him before. Hotch’s eyes widen slightly before turning to the team.

“He works in they Cyber Intelligence unit,” Hotch murmurs. “I’ve seen him around. It’s on our floor.”

Hotch and Morgan lock eyes before they walk into the interrogation room, Noah looking up at both of them. He furrows his brow, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Why am I here?” He mumbles.

“You know why you’re here, Noah,” Hotch says. “You bugged a child’s toy. Why?”

Noah’s silent, staring down at his hands. Hotch shares a look with Morgan before turning his eyes back to Noah. Hotch stands, placing his palms flat on the table.

“I won’t ask again.”

“Because he told me to,” Noah mutters, scratching at the paint of the table with his nails.

“Who?”

Silence.

“ _Who_?” Hotch slams his hands on the table, causing Noah to jolt, looking up at Hotch with wide eyes.

“I-I don’t know his name, okay!” Noah stutters out. “H-He was blackmailing me, and he told me if I didn’t do what he said, he’d kill me. H-He knew I was working in cyber intelligence and he knew I was good with computer stuff.”

“How did he contact you?” Morgan asks.

“He would, um, call me. The voice was distorted every time.”

“How did you get the stuffed animal?” Hotch asks.

“I-I didn’t go anywhere near the kid,” Noah defends. “He brought it to me. N-Not directly to me. It was left on my doorstep. I never saw him. I swear.”

Hotch glares at Noah, his intense gaze making Noah shrink into his seat. After a moment, Hotch stands up straight, turning around and walking out of the room. Morgan follows him.

“Get his phone to Garcia,” Hotch says once the door is shut. 

“Sir, Garcia has something,” JJ says, poking her head into the room.

Hotch and Morgan briskly walk to Garcia’s cave, Garcia spinning around in her chair as they entered. She raised her eyebrows.

“So, after looking at the many, _many_ texts and emails between Y/n and her father, there’s one thing in common,” she starts.

“Which is?”

“Hotch, don’t interrupt while the queen is talking,” she says, her voice singsong. “He calls her ‘little dove’.”

“Little dove?” Morgan furrows his brow.

“That’s what the note said,” Hotch says. “’ If you want to find them, all you have to do is follow the sounds of the little dove.’”

“He calls her ‘little dove’ in, like, every correspondence between them. Normally, I’d say it was cute.” Garcia taps her fuzzy pink pen on the desk.

“Maybe ‘little dove’ has more significance than we thought,” Hotch mutters.

“What, is he keeping her somewhere where birds are?”

“No, think. Ceremonially, where are doves used?” 

“Uh…weddings?”

“And where are most weddings?”

“Churches,” Morgan says, eyes widening.

“So, they’re most likely at a church.”

“Hotch, there are hundreds of churches in Virginia,” Garcia says hesitantly.

“Okay, think,” Hotch mumbles to himself. “If the unsub took them and he was alone, they can’t be too far away from the safe house. And with him blackmailing Noah and being able to take Speckles from Will’s house, he has to be operating out of D.C. Do a search of churches within a fifteen-mile radius of the safe house.”

Garcia types. “I have thirteen.”

“Do any of them have dove in the name?”

More typing. “No sir…but there is one with a dove in the little church logo.”

“What’s the name?” Hotch asks.

“Five Springs of Fellowship Church. The symbol is two doves.” Hotch looks at screen. “Oh…and it’s only about ten miles away.”

Hotch looks up at Morgan. “Get the team. Wheels up in five. Let’s go save Spencer and Y/n.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, a whole chapter without Spencer or Y/n. I liked writing from the team's point of view--and I love Hotch caring so much about Y/n and Spencer. But yes, this chapter was a doozy to write. I hope you guys are enjoying so far!


	7. Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unsub interrogates you and Spencer.  
> TW: knives, blood, attempted sexual assault

The pain in your head registers first. It prickles from the back of your skull to the front, a small groan leaving you as your eyes slowly flutter open. Your vision is blurry, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light around you. You jerk your arms, wincing when you feel the scratchiness of the rope burn your skin. You lift your head, blinking as your eyes try to adjust. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart? Wake up!”

Your eyes flutter and you blink hard, Spencer’s figure slowly coming into focus about six feet in front of you. Your pulse races as you look him over, his worried hazel eyes on you. His hair is messy, dried blood lining his forehead and the side of his mouth. He has a cut on his cheek, probably from where he’d been hit. His clothes are ripped, his hands tied behind his back. He gives you a worried smile, exhaling slowly.

“Spence, are you okay?” You ask, searching his face.

“I’m fine, baby,” he reassures you. 

You tear your eyes from his face, looking at the space around you. _Where are you_? The walls are white—wooden walls, you presume. The floor is that stupid white vinyl composition tile they have in schools; and you notice a bunch of round tables around the room, a stack of chairs shoved in the corner. You squint, noticing the clock on the wall behind Spencer, right next to a big wooden cross. A church. You’re in a church basement. 

“How long have you been awake?” You look back at Spencer.

“A few minutes,” he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek. “This is my fault.”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, no, sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” he whispers. “Please don’t think that.”

You wish you could reach out and touch him, but all you’re met with is the sting of the rope around your wrists. “I love you.”

“I love you.” His voice is soft, his eyes searching yours.

You hear a door open, and you jump slightly, craning your neck to try to see who your captor is. After a couple moments, he comes into view. 

He’s older—in his forties. Not your dad. Straight, salt and pepper hair sits on his head, his face clean shaven. He’s a little taller than you, donned in a black shirt and a pair of jeans, a pair of work boots on his feet. His lips curl up into a grin as he walks over to you and Spencer, standing to the side of you.

“Well, the lovebirds are awake.”

You look up at him, gaze unwavering as his eyes flick to you. “Who are you?” The man doesn’t answer, and your eyes flick over to Spencer before looking back at the man. “Do you work for my dad?”

The man laughs, a low sound that sends a chill down your spine. “Your dad can go rot in hell.”

“Okay, so not a friend of my dad’s,” you mumble.

You don’t register the slap until the sound echoes around you, emitting a sharp gasp from you. You turn your face toward the man, watching Spencer struggle with his restraints.

“Don’t fucking _touch_ her!” Spencer shouts, looking at the man with hate-filled eyes.

“You be quiet,” the man snaps at Spencer. “Or I’ll fucking shut you up myself.”

“Spence, it’s okay,” you whisper, looking at him. “Just listen to him.”

Spencer looks at you, and you give him a small nod, trying to communicate to him without words. You look back up at the man, his beady green eyes looking at you intensely. 

“What do you want?” You ask him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I want to know where your dad is.”

You shake your head, giving a breathy laugh. “I’d like to fucking know that, too.”

This time it’s not a slap across your cheek, it’s the tip of a knife. You whimper as you feel the blood begin to drip down your cheek, feeling your nails digging into your palms. Pain radiates through the side of your face and you look at Spencer, watching as his eyes fill with tears.

“Tell me where he is, _little dove_.”

You clench your jaw. “I don’t _know_. And don’t fucking call me that.”

This time, the knife drags across your shoulder, ripping the fabric of your shirt. You grit your teeth to keep from making noise, looking up at the man.

“I’m telling the truth.”

The man shakes his head. “Tell me why I don’t believe you.”

“We don’t know anything,” Spencer whispers. “We’re looking for him just like you are.”

“Shut up!” The man yells, swiping the knife across Spencer’s cheek. 

“Don’t hurt him; hurt me,” you tell the man, keeping your voice cool. “ _Please_ don’t hurt him.” Spencer’s eyes lock with yours, and your heart aches in your chest. You can handle a lot of things, but what you can’t handle is watching the man you love in pain.

The man turns to you, tilting his head. “Maybe you’ll talk if I hurt your little lover boy here.” He runs the knife across the curve of Spencer’s shoulder, and you watch Spencer’s jaw clench. 

“P-Please don’t!” You cry out, tugging at your restraints. “I-I’ll tell you what I know!”

The man’s phone suddenly rings in his pocket, and he pulls it out, looking at the caller ID. “Hm, your little tale will have to wait a minute. This is important. But first…” He looks at Spencer, closing the knife. Before you know it, he’s landed a punch across Spencer’s face, and you hear Spencer groan softly. You cry out, tears filling your eyes as Spencer’s head hangs, the guy throwing you a smirk before walking toward the door.

You hear the door open, then shut, Spencer slowly raising his head. His lip is split open, blood trickling down his chin. He gives you a small smile, a breathy laugh leaving him. 

“I’m alright, sweetheart. I can handle a punch or two.”

“What if it’s not just a punch or two, Spence?” You ask, swallowing the lump in your throat. “What if he kills you? What if he kills _me_?”

Spencer shakes his head. “He won’t. He wants to know where your dad is; he’ll keep us alive.”

You inhale deeply. “The team has to be looking for us, right?”

“They’re looking for us,” Spencer says softly. 

Blood continues to drip down your shoulder and your cheek, and you wince, the stinging lingering on your skin. Spencer looks at you with concerned eyes, pulling at his restraints.

“At least this lets us know that your dad has enemies,” Spencer says, looking around the room. “And they’re closer than we thought.”

“I hope the kids are okay,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. “I’m sure JJ went all mama bear when her and Will got to the safe house.”

Spencer laughs softly. “I’m sure she did.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I think an agent helped this guy out.”

“Me, too,” Spencer whispers. “I also think Speckles was bugged—we’re so fucking stupid; why didn’t we check first?”

You shake your head. “He knew we wouldn’t check. We’d be too worried about the kids to check anything. It was an afterthought, not a forethought.”

Spencer looks down at the ground before looking up at you, eyes locking with yours. “Y/n, I need you to know that if anything happens to me—”

“Spence, nothing is going—”

“ _If_ anything happens to me,” he interrupts, “I want you to know how much I love you. I love you so fucking much, sweetheart. You’ve made my life worth living; you and the kids are my whole fucking world.”

You can’t help the tears that well in your eyes. “Spencer Reid, do not say that to me. We’re not going to die. You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. Do you understand me?” He nods and you’re quiet for a moment. “I love you, too.”

The two of you sit in each other’s silence for who knows how long, Spencer’s eyes never leaving yours. The door opens and you drag your eyes away from him, looking at the man walking slowly back over to you.

“So, you were saying?” He says, tilting his head.

“We know he’s somewhere in D.C.,” you whisper. “He’s coming here for me. I-I don’t know why.”

The man raises his eyebrows. “That’s it? D.C.? I already knew that!”

“I-I’m sorry, that’s really all I know,” you tell him, looking him dead in the eye.

The man bends down, leaning his hands on the arms of the chair, his face level with yours. His stupid, beady eyes look into yours, and you watch as they slowly rake down your body. Your heart falls into your ass. You know that look—you’ve seen it on every unsub who gets within close proximity of any woman. 

He slowly stands, pushing his hand in his pocket before pulling the knife out again, flicking it open. He glances at Spencer, his lips turning up into a wicked smile.

“She’s pretty, Mr. FBI Agent.”

“Dr.,” you both say at the same time, eyes landing on each other’s.

The man rolls his eyes before turning back to you. “You sure do know how to pick them, lover boy.” 

You whimper softly as he runs the knife across your other shoulder before ripping the sleeves of your shirt open. Your chest quickly rises and falls as he brings the knife to the collar of your shirt, ripping open the front of your shirt straight down the middle.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_!” Spencer shouts, the man ignoring him as he rips the rest of your shirt off, leaving your torso bare, your bra the only thing covering you.

The man’s beady eyes look across your chest hungrily, and you cry out as he runs the knife between your breasts, leaving a dark red trail in its wake. His other hand is running up your thigh, your thighs clenched together. Spencer’s crying now, struggling so hard with the restraints you’re sure it’ll draw blood. You look at him, your lower lip trembling as the knife moves to the bra strap on your left shoulder, cutting it open. A sob escapes your throat as he moves to the next one.

A loud bang echoes off the bare walls, and the man doesn’t even have time to fully turn around before two gunshots ring out, hitting the man square in the chest. You look at Spencer, full on sobbing as the man’s body drops to the ground, feeling the blood run down your stomach. Spencer’s still struggling with his restraints, and you watch as Emily runs over to you, eyes widening at the state of your body. 

“Hotch,” she calls out, flicking her head in the direction of Spencer. 

She cuts the rope, your wrists immediately stinging as the air hits them. Hotch does the same to Spencer and you stand, flinging yourself into Spencer’s arms. He holds you tightly, and you both cry as you bury your face in his neck, ignoring the sting from the wound on your forehead and cheek. Spencer pulls away, one of his hands cupping the side of your face, the other running through your hair softly. He presses his lips to yours gently and you kiss him back, pulling away after a moment.

You feel something being wrapped around you and you pull away from Spencer’s grip, looking behind you. Hotch’s FBI jacket is resting on your shoulders, and you push your arms through it, zipping it up so it covers your almost completely bare torso. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling Spencer lace his fingers through yours. 

Then, Hotch does the unexpected. He pulls you in for a hug. In the four years you’ve known him, he’s hugged you twice—once at your wedding, and the other when you named him Joseph’s godfather. 

You shake your grip from Spencer’s hand before wrapping your arms around Hotch’s torso. He holds the back of your head gently.

“I’m so sorry I let this happen to you two,” he whispers, and you feel his breath hitch in his throat.

“It’s not your fault, Aaron,” you reply, shaking your head.

After a moment, he releases you, clearing his throat. You grab Spencer’s hand again before looking at the team, your lower lip trembling again.

“Thank you,” you whisper to them. “I…I don’t know what would’ve happened if you guys hadn’t shown up when you did.” You look at the man’s dead body on the ground, jaw clenching.

“We can talk about him later,” Morgan says softly.

“For now, you two need to get checked out by a medic,” Rossi states.

The team leads you up and out of the church—you had been right; it was a church. The ambulance is waiting, and you and Spencer both get checked out and stitched up. No concussions for either of you—just a terrible headache on your part. The EMTs clean the cuts on you and Spencer’s face, and the cut on your shoulder and chest, stitching them up and bandaging them. 

You turn toward Spencer, noticing the faint bruising starting to form beneath his right eye. You rub his cheek gently, and he presses his lips against yours again, resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

The two of you walk back over to the team, and JJ envelopes you in a hug. 

“The kids are with Jamie, Will, and Kyle,” she murmurs in your ear.

“Thank you, JJ. Seriously.”

Hotch looks at everyone. “We need to get back to the BAU. Garcia’s working on identifying the dead unsub.” He looks at you and Spencer. “Your bags are at the BAU. You two can take a day if you need it.”

You look at Spencer, sharing a look with him before turning back to Hotch. “No. Remember, anything that has to do with my dad’s investigation, we’re involved.”

Hotch eyes you for a moment before giving a slight nod. “Fine. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was HARD for me to write. Omg. But yes, Spencer and the Reader are safe!  
> Thank you to everyone who's reading this! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it.


	8. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team discuss the unsub who'd kidnapped you and Spencer--and you two finally get some alone time together.

“Raymond White.”

You scrunch your brows together. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Well, he apparently hated your father,” Morgan states, leaning back in his seat.

“Enough to kidnap you and want to find him.” Hotch leans forward on the table, the palm of his hands flat against the wood.

“He lived in Gatlinburg, which means he travelled pretty far to come find you,” Prentiss mumbles.

“Great, now I have to watch out for people who work for my dad _and_ people who hate him?” You groan, leaning back against your seat.

Spencer’s hand finds your thigh, his thumb rubbing it against it softly. You look at him, giving him a small smile. You look past his head, watching Jamie, Kyle, and Will with the kids in the bullpen. The last few hours have been exhausting—traveling back to the BAU and researching the man who’d kidnapped you and Spencer. You and Spencer hand changed into comfy clothes from your go bags—thank god. Emily and Hotch having to see you half naked was embarrassing enough, you didn’t want the rest of the agents in this building to see it, too. Spencer’s smell from his Caltech sweatshirt seems to calm you, and you’re thankful for it.

“We need to go back to Tennessee,” Hotch says. 

“Why?” You mumble, putting your hand on top of Spencer’s.

“We need to look through Raymond’s house,” Rossi says. 

“Hey, did something ever come from those letters we found at Hunter’s place? The man who punched Spencer in the face?” You ask, looking over at Hotch.

“We’re still reading through them—we got a little sidetracked,” he says, his words almost sounding like a joke.

“I can start reading through them tomorrow,” Spencer says, giving you a small smile.

“He can go through them on the jet.”

You lean your head on your hand, closing your eyes for a moment. Your mind is racing, your body exhausted. And part of you is so fucking _angry_ at everything. 

“I think we should take a break,” Hotch says sternly. “We’ve been working non-stop for twenty-four hours.”

You hear the scrape of chairs as the team stands, and you open your eyes, looking at Spencer. He leans in, giving your temple a quick kiss. You stand, tapping your fingers against your thigh as you look at Hotch.

“I think it’s best if you and Spencer stay here tonight,” Hotch tells you, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“What about—”

“I can take the kids for the night,” Hotch says, a little smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it. Ever since Garcia basically had to live here a couple years ago the Bureau installed a little pull out bed in that room.”

You nod. “Okay. Yeah, we’ll stay here.”

“Agents will be posted down the hall from the room you’ll be staying in,” Hotch assures you. “Joseph can sleep in Jack’s room, and I still have Jack’s crib, so Rhiannon can sleep there in my room.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Spencer says softly, his hand finding yours.

He gives you two a small nod. “What else are godparents for?”

You laugh softly before the three of you head into the bullpen. You walk over to your kids, Joseph immediately jumping into your arms. You giggle, wrapping him up, watching Spencer take Rhiannon into his, giving her a small kiss on the forehead as he does.

“Are we going home, mama?” Joseph asks, his big hazel eyes on your face.

You shake your head slightly. “Not yet, big man. _But_ do you know who you get to stay with tonight? Uncle Aaron and Jack!”

Joseph’s eyes light up. “Really?”

You nod, running your fingers through your son’s brown curls. “Mhm. And Uncle Aaron says you get to stay in Jack’s room. That means you get to play with all of his toys!”

“Yay!” Joseph cheers, leaning up to give you a kiss on your cheek. 

You laugh, hugging your son tightly before walking over to Spencer. Rhiannon’s head rests on his shoulder, his hand on her back. Her eyes are closed, and you run your fingers through her hair, meeting Spencer’s eyes. You see a hint of pain in them—he hates this. He hates leaving the kids. You bite the inside of your cheek, holding back tears. This is _your_ fault. You swallow the lump in your throat before giving him a small smile. 

You lean in, giving Rhiannon a kiss on her cheek before turning to Hotch. “Ready?”

He nods. “Yeah, Will ran outside to put the car seat in my car. Let’s go.”

The three of you walk out of the building and toward Hotch’s car, Joseph’s tiny hands curled into fists, the fabric of your shirt twisted inside of them. You put him down and he looks up at you.

“I miss you, mama.”

The words almost make you break down, your lower lip trembling as you look down at your son. “I miss you, too, big guy. I promise it’ll get better soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too, mama.”

You stand, and Spencer shifts Rhiannon into your arms. He bends down, putting himself at Joseph’s height.

“Are you gonna be good for Uncle Aaron?” He asks Joseph.

“Mhm, I promise!” Joseph giggles.

Spencer grins at him. “Come here.” He opens his arms and Joseph walks into them, throwing his arms around Spencer’s neck. Spencer rubs his back softly, and you see his jaw clench. He kisses the top of Joseph’s head before pulling away. “I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“I love you, too, daddy,” Joseph replies, squeezing Spencer’s cheeks between his little hands. 

“Alright, go to Uncle Aaron.”

Joseph turns around and runs over to Hotch. Hotch picks him up, smiling at his godson as he puts him in the car. Spencer stands, making his way to you and Rhiannon. You turn to Rhiannon, watching her open up her sleepy little eyes. You run your fingers through her curls, and she grips onto your shirt.

“Mama,” she murmurs sleepily.

“Mhm, sweet girl,” you reply. “Mama misses you so much.”

Your daughter smiles and you lean down, kissing her forehead. Spencer rubs your back softly as Hotch comes over, taking Rhiannon from you. He gives you a small smile.

“I’ll look after them. Don’t worry.”

You nod at him. “I know, Aaron. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He straps Rhiannon into the car seat and gets into his car. You grab Spencer’s hand and the two of you walk back into Headquarters, going back up to the sixth floor. You make your way to the small room where Garcia had stayed a couple years ago, flicking the small lamp on as you enter. 

The pull-out bed was already made, and you shut and lock the door behind Spencer. You close the blinds, wanting some sort of fucking privacy from the agents of the Bureau. You walk over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, putting your elbows on your thighs. Spencer sits next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. You put your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Spence,” you whisper, your voice thick.

“What are you sorry for, baby? You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmurs, his hand running up and down your side slowly.

“It’s my fault this is happening,” you reply. “It’s my fault we keep having to say goodbye to our kids—and I know how much it hurts you.”

“Hey,” he whispers. You pull away from him, and he puts his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “It is _not_ your fault, okay? None of this is your fault. Don’t blame yourself for your father.” Spencer moves his hand to cup your cheek. “It does hurt me to say goodbye to the kids, but I know it hurts you, too. And I know we’ll see them again.”

“I just don’t want you to blame me,” you reply softly. “I don’t want you to end up hating me.”

Spencer’s gaze softens even more than it already was, his hazel eyes searching yours. “I could _never_ hate you, do you understand me? I love you so much. Please don’t _ever_ think I could hate you.”

“Okay,” you reply, your lower lip trembling slightly. “I love you, too.”

Spencer leans down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss him back, putting your hand on top of his on your cheek. He pulls you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, his hand leaving your face and travelling down to your thigh. Your hand grips the front of his shirt, Spencer’s lips stifling the small moan that leaves you.

He pulls back, panting softly. “W-We shouldn’t, baby, you’re hurt.”

You rub your thumb softly under his black eye. “You’re hurt, too.”

It takes half a second for Spencer’s lip to be back on yours, moving more urgently against yours. You scoot back in the bed, Spencer following you. You lay flat on your back, Spencer propping himself up on his elbow as he lies on his side next to you, his left hand flat on your stomach. His lips move across your jaw before moving to your neck, sucking softly at the skin. 

Your hand snakes in his hair, gripping the fluffy locks tightly as he sucks gently on your neck, his other hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing your stomach. His touch seems to light your skin on fire, and you tug on his hair, moving his lips back up to yours. Your hand moves to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Your fingers run down his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles tense underneath your hands.

Spencer tugs at the waistband of your sweatpants, and you help kick them off, his fingers running up your inner thigh until the reach your covered slit. He runs his fingers up lightly before pushing them aside, rubbing your clit in circles with his middle finger. You groan into his mouth, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip lightly before pulling away to look at you. You run your nails down his stomach, leaving dark red lines behind, Spencer inhaling sharply as he continues working your clit.

His fingers move from your clit up your body, gripping the hem of your shirt. He lifts it over your head, and you cross your arms over your chest, frowning.

“I have stitches there,” you murmur. “They’re ugly.”

“No, they’re not,” Spencer mumbles, his right hand stroking your hair slowly. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

You look into his hazel eyes and slowly let your arms fall to your sides, Spencer kissing down your chest slowly. He kisses softly over the stiches, almost like he wishes he could magically heal you with his touch. His mouth moves to your left nipple, swirling his tongue over it slowly as he takes your right nipple between his fingers, rolling it and pulling it softly. Your back arches and you moan softly, your fingers twisting in his hair again. The feeling shoots straight to your pussy, and you tug Spencer’s head off your breast.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe out, your voice slightly pleading.

Spencer lies flat on his back as he kicks his pants and underwear off of him, turning back over to hover over you. He kisses you softly as he lines his dick up with your wet entrance, slowly pushing into you. The familiar feeling of him filling you up fills you with a weird kind of comfort, and you wrap your legs around his hips. 

He begins fucking you—slowly at first but increasing his pace every second. His hand moves to your clit, rubbing it slow circles as his lips meet yours. You both moan into each other’s mouths, your hand cupping his face at first before moving to his back. As he begins fucking you faster, he breaks the kiss, mouth slightly agape as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You whimper softly as he begins increasing his speed, and your nails dig into his back, scratching it and leaving red lines behind. He moans softly into your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin.

Your whole body moves as he fucks you, the knot growing in your lower stomach. You clench around him, emitting a loud moan from Spencer. You continue to rake your nails down his back, surely leaving scratch marks behind as you feel your orgasm grow. Spencer lifts his head from your neck, his mouth connecting with yours as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, his finger moving faster on your clit.

Breaking the kiss, his looks into your eyes. “Come for me, baby.”

Your back arches slightly as you let your orgasm consume you, legs shaking as your pussy throbs around his dick. You try to catch your breath as he continues fucking you, Spencer groaning as his dick twitches inside of you. After a few more sloppy thrusts, he buries himself inside your pussy, his dick throbbing as he spills his load into you. 

Spencer kisses you again, softer this time as you two come down from your orgasms. He carefully pulls out of you, kissing down your body until he gets to your slit. He slowly licks up your slit, and you lean up on your elbows to watch him, cleaning you up between your thighs. You don’t think you’ll ever _not_ think of that as hot. He grins as he stands up, and you throw your legs over the edge of the pull-out bed. You dress quickly before standing on your tiptoes, giving him a quick kiss.

“I gotta pee, I’ll be right back.”

You go to the restroom, peeing quickly before washing your hands. You give the agent at the end of the hallway a small nod as you pass him, a slight blush creeping to your cheeks as you walk back to the room. You hope he hadn’t heard anything—that would be embarrassing. 

You collapse onto the bed, wincing slightly at the pain from your stitches. You climb under the covers, laying on your side as Spencer wraps his arm around you, pulling you to him. 

“We’ll find something tomorrow in Gatlinburg, baby,” he murmurs against the back of your neck. “I can feel it.”

“I sure hope so,” you whisper back.

He gives you a small kiss on your neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

You quickly fall asleep in the arms of your husband, too exhausted to worry about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, a spicy chapter. There hasn't been one of those in a while, so I decided to let them have their sexy time.   
> I appreciate all of you who are reading this! If you're enjoying, I'm glad. :)


	9. Cash and Hidden Compartments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the team head to Gatlinburg, but what you find there changes everything.

“Jamie, seriously, thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Jamie laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n. I’m serious. You can’t help what’s going on right now.” She looks down at Joseph, one of his little hands twisted in the fabric of your pants. “Plus, we’re gonna have a movie marathon!”

Joseph giggles, and you pick him up, squeezing him. “Mama, where are you and daddy going?”

You give him a little smile, patting his wild curly hair down. “Daddy and I are going on a trip to where I used to live. And if you’re good for Auntie Jamie, I’ll bring you back a present, okay?”

“Okay!” Joseph gives you a big kiss on your cheek and you set him down, watching him patter over to Spencer. 

You and Jamie cross to him, and you take Rhiannon from him. She lays her head in the crook of your neck, her hazel eyes closed. You smile as you hold your daughter, watching Spencer lift Joseph up.

“Did you have fun at Uncle Aaron’s house last night?” Spencer asks Joseph.

Joseph nods. “Mhm, Uncle Aaron made us chicken nuggets and we played games!”

Spencer chuckles, running his hands through his son’s hair. “That’s good. Be good for Auntie Jamie, okay? I love you, big man.”

“I love you, too, daddy,” he says, giving Spencer a kiss on his cheek.

Spencer grins, setting Joseph down. Jamie grabs Joseph’s hand, and she beckons Kyle over. He crosses to her, giving you and Spencer a smile.

“I promise we’ll keep them safe,” he says to you two, and you give Rhiannon a kiss on her forehead before handing her to Kyle. “Rosie will be happy to have someone to run around the house with.”

“Just make sure Joseph doesn’t pull her hair—he’s prone to doing that with dogs, hence the reason we don’t have one,” Spencer states, lacing his fingers with yours. 

Jamie giggles. “Don’t’ worry, we’ll keep a lookout.”

You wave goodbye to them as they walk to Jamie’s car, strapping the kids in before driving away. You look at Spencer, his hazel eyes meeting yours. You lean in, giving him a kiss on the nose before kissing his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he replies, squeezing your hand. “Come on, the team’s waiting on the jet.”

The two of you grab your go bags and head to the jet, giving the team small smiles as you sit down beside each other. Hotch hands you a file, everything on Raymond White, the guy who had kidnapped you and Spencer. You glance over the file, shaking your head.

“Lived in Gatlinburg his whole life, history of petty crime…there’s not much here,” you say, closing the file.

“He kept a low profile,” Rossi states. “Didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.”

“The cell phone he had was disposable, so he was obviously communicating with someone.” Prentiss taps her fingers against the wooden table.

“I don’t think it was a partner,” Spencer says, his thumb drawing little circles over yours. “I think he was working for somebody.”

“Someone else who hates my dad? Shocker.”

JJ laughs softly. “It makes sense. We don’t know how deep this thing goes.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I think we should check out my old house after we look at Raymond’s.”

“Why?” Hotch asks, leaning back in his seat.

“I don’t know, I have a gut feeling,” you reply, shaking your head. “I just feel like we’re going to find something there. I don’t really know what happened with it after he faked his death—he couldn’t have stayed there. But I’d like to look anyway.”

“Reid, when we touch down, go to the station and start looking over Hunter’s letters. I’m sure you’ll get done quickly. Y/l/n, Morgan, and I will go to Raymond’s house. Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, go to the station and see if you can find anymore background on Raymond. We need to talk to friends or anyone he may have been hanging around with.” Hotch looks at you, giving you a little smile. “After we check out Raymond’s house, you, me, and Reid can go to your old house.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him.

You sigh, turning to look at Spencer. He smiles at you, leaning in to give you a kiss. You kiss him back briefly before pulling away, putting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“We’ll find him,” Spencer mutters into your hair. 

“I know,” you murmur back, reveling in his warm touch.

The jet ride to Gatlinburg is quick, and as soon as the jet touches down, the team moves to action. You kiss Spencer goodbye as before rides to the station with Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi. You climb into the front seat of the SUV, making Derek sit in the back. You glance at the file before looking at Hotch.

“We’re on the lookout for anything suspicious, anything that might link him to my dad.”

Hotch nods. “If he was as obsessed with finding your dad as we think, he’s bound to have something laying around.”

The drive to Raymond’s place is short, and Hotch parks the SUV outside of an old, two-story wooden house. The paint is a faded blue, chipping off the wood. An old red truck sits in the driveway. You open the door of the SUV, shutting in behind you. Your shoes crunch on the gravel of the driveway, and you glance at Hotch and Morgan.

The three of you draw your guns, approaching the front door slowly. You know nobody is here—but you’d rather be safe than sorry. Hotch opens the door and Morgan and you go through, and the three of you check the house, making sure it’s clear before meeting in the living room.

“Alright, Morgan and I will take down here. Y/n, check upstairs.”

You nod, heading up the creaking wooden stairs slowly. You check the bathroom first—nothing suspicious, just over the counter headache medicine and men’s toiletries. You walk into Raymond’s room, glancing around. The room is dark, the bed sitting in the middle of the room without a frame. A black comforter rests on top of it. There’s no dresser, no photos, nothing seemingly personal. You pull the surgical gloves out of your pocket, pulling them on as you spot a journal.

You open it, knitting your brows together as you read. It’s literally a _hate_ diary. He doesn’t mention anything specific, but you see your father’s name mentioned a few times. You tilt your head as you read a sentence aloud.

_“Joseph made his mistake a long time ago—and now the boss is making sure he’s paying for it.”_

“What the fuck?” You mutter, shaking your head as you close the journal.

You walk over to his closet, pulling it open. You push the clothes out of the way to reveal a big black bag on the floor. You pull it out slowly, setting the journal on the floor next to you. You unzip the bag slowly, your mouth dropping open when you see what’s inside.

Cash. There had to be thousands of dollars in this bag. 

“Hotch! Morgan!” You yell, hearing them run up the stairs.

“What? Are you okay?” Hotch asks, his gun drawn.

“I’m fine. I found something. A journal and…this.” You gesture to the cash.

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Why would someone like Raymond have this much cash?”

“Because he’s working for someone,” you say, standing up and tossing them the journal. “He mentions a boss.”

“Hm,” Hotch says, scrunching his brows. “Get the bag. We need to take it to the station. It’s officially evidence, along with that journal.”

You zip the bag up and lift it, grunting slightly. It’s _heavy_. The three of you head out to the SUV, and you hand Derek the bag of money before slipping into the passenger’s seat. The station is across town, and Hotch drives quickly, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

As soon as the car stops outside the station, you’re out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind you. You push the station doors open, walking toward the rest of the teams in one of the little conference rooms. You set the journal on the table, Morgan setting the money next to it.

“Raymond White was working for somebody.”

“So someone hired him to kidnap us?” Spencer asks, flicking his eyes up to your face.

“Looks like it,” you say, sighing as you lean against the table. “Did you find anything from the letters?”

“Not yet. They’re all very cryptic. They’re not written in code, per say, but they’re almost not specific enough to let on what the two of them are really talking about.”

“Raymond never really talked to anyone,” Rossi says, glancing at the bag on the table. 

“According to phone records, he kept to himself,” JJ chimes.

“Fantastic,” you mutter, looking up at Spencer. 

“Reid, Y/n, and I are going to go check out her old house. You guys keep digging. There has to be something we’re missing,” Hotch tells the team.

They nod and Spencer stands, lacing is fingers with yours. The three of you make your way to an SUV, and you and Spencer sit in the back. Hotch glances back at you guys before he starts driving, Spencer lifting your hand to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss. You smile at him before looking out the window, watching the city pass.

As you approach your old house, a weird sense of nostalgia and fear hits you. You never thought this is how you would be coming “home”—to an empty, abandoned house. Your eyes scan the exterior of the house—brick, two-story, still in good shape despite no one living in it for four years. The front yard is overgrown, and one of the shutters on the window is half-off. Hotch stops the car and you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting out slowly. 

Spencer walks around the car and puts his hand on your lower back, looking at the house. “This is where you grew up?”

“Mhm, after Blythewood.” You look at him and he rubs your back. 

“Come on, let’s go take a look,” Hotch says, beckoning you and Spencer over.

The three of you walk up to the house, and Hotch checks the door. Locked. He looks at you and Spencer, and you two stand back before Hotch kicks the door in. The door hits the wall behind it, and you raise your eyebrows before brushing past him and walking inside.

The house is just like you remember it—clean, despite no one living in it for four years. You walk through the small hallway until you reach the living room, looking at the same black couch you used to sit on when you were little. The TV is still hung on the wall, blankets strewn on the couch. You turn and look at the kitchen, trying to remember the way it used to smell when your mom made homemade cookies. There are still a couple of unwashed glasses in the sink, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Spencer grabs your hand, and you look at him, a small smile on his lips. You pull him to the stairs, and the two of you, with Hotch following, walk up the carpeted steps. When you reach the top, you immediately turn right, heading to your old room. You push the door open, breath hitching in your throat as you admire your old room.

It's the same as you left it before you went to college—the tan comforter made neatly over your bed; your fuzzy blankets folded in the corner. Your old wooden desk sits against the wall, some of your old books still stacked on top of it. Your bookcase rests in the corner, books lining the shelves neatly. You bet if you open your closet, all of the clothes you didn’t take to college with you would still be there. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, Spencer watching you closely. 

“All of these books are yours?” He asks, walking over to the bookshelf.

“Mhm, and I’ve read all of them, too,” you say, giving him a smile.

Hotch stays silent, leaning against the doorframe. Spencer comes over to you, planting a small kiss on your lips.

“My wife is so smart.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Shut up, genius.”

You look at Hotch, raising your eyebrows. “We should go check my dad’s room.”

You exit your room, Spencer and Hotch in tow, walking down to the opposite end of the hallway to your dad’s old room. It was always hard for you to go in there after your mother died. It was a room you’d long avoided.

You put your hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before turning it, pushing it open to reveal your dad’s bedroom. It looks almost the same as it had when you’d last seen it, but the bed isn’t made. The bathroom light is still on, the closet door open. Like someone was living here and then just…disappeared. Which is technically what happened.

“We should look in the closet and the dresser. There might be something there.” You say, walking over to the bed. 

You run your hands along the soft gray comforter before getting to the bedside table. You open the little drawer, rifling through the contents. Tissues, a lighter, hand sanitizer. Nothing that could be of any use to you. You back up a few steps, the floorboard creaking underneath you. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you look down, narrowing your eyes.

You tap your foot against the floor, eyes widening when it slightly echoes underneath you. “Hey, guys, I think there’s something underneath the floor.”

You hear Spencer and Hotch walk over, and you bend down, running your hands along the floor. Your fingers catch on a little dip in the wood, your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage. You slowly pull on the wood, gasping softly when it opens, revealing a hidden compartment underneath the floor.

“What is this, fucking mission impossible?” You mutter underneath your breath, eyes scanning the contents.

A couple of .22 handguns. Files. Some cash. A shit ton of IDs. And something else—a note. You exhale sharply your fingers grazing over the folded piece of paper.

It’s addressed to you. And it’s your mother’s handwriting.

You pick up the paper, hot tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes. Spencer’s hand squeezes your shoulder, and you take a deep breath before unfolding the paper.

_Be careful, sweetheart. Your dad isn’t who he says he is. I love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for not updating in a while. I've been a little unmotivated to write this chapter, and I wanted to wait until I got motivated so I could give you guys a good chapter rather than a lazy, unmotivated one! I love all of you guys so much and I'm so glad you're enjoying the sequel!


	10. Evidence Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team analyzes the evidence from Gatlinburg.

You immediately drop the note, fingers on fire like the note itself is burning. You stand up too quickly, stumbling backward into Spencer who immediately wraps his arms around you. Your mind races, heart beating quickly against your ribcage as you stare down at the hidden compartment, hot tears brimming in your eyes.

The three of you are quiet for a moment, and you watch as Hotch bends down, pulling a glove out of his back pocket. He puts it on and examines each of the items carefully before standing back up.

“I’m going to get some evidence bags out of the SUV. I’ll be right back.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently before walking out of the room.

You hear the creak of the stairs as he walks down them, and you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. You turn around, Spencer’s hands immediately moving to cradle your face. His hazel eyes look into yours, concern filling them as he tries to decipher how you’re feeling.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head, baby,” he says softly.

“I think my dad killed my mom,” you whisper, your lower lip trembling.

“She committed suicide,” Spencer says gently, both of his thumbs brushing your cheeks slowly.

“Or he forced her to.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, unable to stop the small sob that leaves your throat. 

Spencer wraps his arms around you again, pulling you against him fully. He rubs your back soothingly, planting a kiss on the side of your head. Your tears are short-lived, trying to collect yourself so Hotch doesn’t find you crying in the arms of your husband when he returns. After a few moments, you pull away, and Spencer smiles softly at you, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I promise, we’ll figure this out, okay?” 

You nod, your right hand wrapping around his wrist. “Okay.”

He leans in, giving you a soft kiss before pulling away. You give him a soft smile as you pull away, turning back around and looking at the hidden compartment. Hotch returns a few moments later with several evidence bags, leaning down to put the items in each one. You bite the inside of your cheek, your thoughts going a million miles a minute. 

Your mom had tried to warn you. She’d tried to warn you about who your dad really is—and you’d never even gotten the note. You’d lived your life in an ignorant bliss in a house with a murderer; all the while, the real secrets had been buried beneath the floorboards the whole time. 

Spencer laces his fingers with yours and squeezes your hand. Hotch stands, holding the evidence bags, his intense gaze turning to you.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking my mom found out who my dad was—is,” you correct yourself quickly. “And…I think he either killed her and covered it up as a suicide, or he forced her to kill herself.” Your voice is quiet, and you try to push back the rush of emotion you’re feeling to try to stay objective.

“We need to get to the jet. Spencer, call the team, tell them to meet us there. We need to get to Quantico.”

Hotch leads the way out of the house, Spencer pulling out his phone and dialing Morgan. You walk down the stairs, taking one moment to look back at the house you’d grown up in. If you close your eyes, it’s almost like you’re twelve again, coming home to the smell of cookies and the giant bear hug your dad would give you when you returned from school. But when you open your eyes, you’re greeted with the bare, desolate frame of what used to be, haunted by skewed memories that don’t even feel real.

You turn around, letting Spencer lead you out the broken front door, not even bothering to shut it behind you. You climb into the backseat, settling in the middle next to Spencer. You buckle your seatbelt, and Spencer puts his phone back in his pocket, grabbing your right hand with his left. You look up at him, and he plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“This is just a reminder that I love you,” he says, looking into your eyes.

You give a breathy chuckle. “I love you, too.”

You look at Hotch’s reflected in the rearview mirror, finding him smiling a rare smile at the two of you, his eyes meeting yours before glancing back at the road. The ride to the jet is short, and the three of you pile out of the SUV, heading into the jet. The team looks up at you as you enter, sitting in a seat in the middle of the jet next to Rossi. Spencer sits next to you, Hotch—evidence bags in hand—sits at the table next to JJ, Prentiss, and Morgan. 

“What did you guys find?” Morgan asks, brows scrunched together.

“All of this.” Hotch puts the evidence bags on the table, and Morgan looks down at them.

“We found a note from my mom,” you say quietly, everyone’s eyes settling on your face. “She, um, she tried to warn me about my dad. I obviously never got it.”

Prentiss tilts her head, looking down at the bag of IDs. “Do you think your dad had something to do with that?”

“No, I _know_ he had something to do with it,” you say, anger underlying your voice. 

“There are either two options,” Spencer says, leaning forward in his seat. “Joseph either killed Y/n’s mom and made it look like a suicide, or he forced her into killing herself.” He places his hand on top of yours, a comforting gesture.

“There could be a third option,” JJ says. “She could still be alive.”

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way. I saw her body, JJ.”

“So did everyone at the diner when your dad supposedly died,” she says back, her voice soft. “I’m just saying, it could be a possibility. We shouldn’t rule it out.”

You visibly tense, and Spencer notices, moving to lace his fingers with yours. You don’t want to argue with the team right now, choosing instead to close your eyes, inhaling slowly, focusing on the way Spencer’s thumb brushes against your hand. After a moment, you open your eyes, tuning yourself back into the conversation.

“Spencer, have you decoded any of the letters from Hunter’s place?” Rossi asks.

Spencer shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m really close, though. I’ll look at them again when we get back to Quantico.”

“Good, there could be some important information in those about who’s working with Joseph,” Hotch says. 

Spencer nods, leaning back in his seat. You bite the skin on your lip, zoning out on the evidence bags on the table. As the jet ascends, you pop your ears, tapping your right fingers on the armrest of the chair. 

“If my dad did kill my mom, then he really didn’t want his secret getting out,” you say suddenly, still looking at the evidence bags. “It means he’d stop at nothing if it meant keeping his real identity a secret.”

Morgan nods. “It makes sense. Someone does something like your dad, they’d want to keep their secret just that—a secret.”

“I’ll have Garcia run these IDs when we get back to Quantico,” Hotch says, holding up the evidence bag.

You nod at him before turning to Spencer. He gives you a soft smile, leaning his head back against the seat. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he adjusts, wrapping his arm around you and tracing little patterns on your upper arm. You feel mentally fucking _drained_ after the day you’ve had. You close your eyes, letting Spencer’s comforting touch and familiar smell lull you to sleep.

**

“I’m gonna get these to Garcia,” Hotch says, walking off in the direction of her cave.

You nod at him, crossing to the roundtable room, collapsing in a chair. Spencer sits on the edge of the table next to you, running his fingers through your hair. You pull your phone out of your pocket, dialing Jamie’s number, putting it on speaker so Spencer can hear.

“Is everything okay?” She asks as soon as she answers.

“Yeah, Jamie, we’re back in Virginia,” you say quietly. “Can I speak to Joseph?”

“Yeah, babe, sure. Joseph! Your mama wants to talk to you!” You hear Joseph’s little squeal, a smile tugging in the corners of Spencer’s mouth. You hear a rustling on Jamie’s end before you hear your son’s voice. “Mama!”

You giggle, setting your phone on the table. “Hi, honey. Daddy’s here, too.”

“Hi, daddy!” Joseph bubbles. 

“Hey, big man,” Spencer says, rubbing the top of your back. “How’s everything at Auntie Jamie and Uncle Kyle’s?”

“It’s good! We watched movies and Uncle Kyle played me songs on his guitar,” Joseph gushes.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” you say to your son, looking up at Spencer. “We’re gonna come get you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, mama. Are we gonna go home?” 

You hesitate, fighting back the lump in your throat. Spencer answers, eyes flicking to you. “No, buddy, we’re gonna go stay with Auntie Penelope, okay?”

Joseph gasps. “Yay! Do you think she’ll let me play with her stuffed animals?”

You laugh softly, wiping away at a tear that escaped. “She’ll definitely let you, honey. How’s your sister?”

“She’s good!”

“That’s good, big man,” Spencer says. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

“Can you put Auntie Jamie back on the phone?”

“Mhm. Here!” There’s more rustling, and you hear Jamie’s voice. “Hey!”

“Hey, Jamie. How are they really? Are they okay?” You ask, your voice breaking slightly.

“They’re fine, Y/n. Rhiannon’s been crying a little more than usual, but I just think it’s because she misses you two.”

You feel like someone’s fucking squeezing your heart, trying to break it in half. “We’re gonna come get them tomorrow, okay? Thank you for helping us out.”

“We owe you,” Spencer chimes in.

“Don’t even worry about it, you guys. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

“Love you,” you tell her before hanging up. It takes approximately two seconds after hanging up for the tears to start again.

Spencer pulls you up, drawing you into a hug. He squeezes you tightly, murmuring sweet everything’s into your ear.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his neck. “I-I just…I miss them. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, rubbing your back soothingly. “I miss them, too.”

You two stay like that for another moment, locked in each other’s embrace. After a couple minutes, you pull away, kissing Spencer softly. He kisses you back before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I promise,” he starts, “that this will end soon, okay? We _will_ find him, and we _will_ stop him.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“Being my rock. And for being so understanding. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You two pull apart, taking a seat at the roundtable as the rest of the team piles in, all taking seats around you, Garcia included. Hotch sets the evidence bags on the table, his brow furrowed.

“So, I ran through the IDs, and here’s the weird thing,” Garcia says, glancing over at you. “None of them exist.”

Your head swivels to her, brows knit. “What?”

“The photos on the IDs have been altered, and…none of these people exist.” She gestures toward the bag of IDs.

You stand up, looking over the evidence bags. A couple of .22 handgun. IDs. Cash. Files—all worn down to where they’re barely eligible. The pieces suddenly click, and you gasp. Morgan looks up at you, tilting his head.

“What?”

“Why would my dad have all these things?” You ask, gesturing around to the pile of evidence. “A .22 handgun is silent. It has a built-in suppressor, so it doesn’t make noise. Fake IDs. Cash.” You look around at the team, meeting eyes with Hotch.

He nods at you, his face grim.

“Your dad is a hitman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh, Joseph is a hitman! I wonder what that's going to lead to!  
> Thank you to everyone who reads this :) I'm so grateful of your comments (even if I might not respond to them omg, I'm horrible at responding). Thank you for supporting!


	11. The Letters

The whole room is silent, everyone seeming to be frozen where they sit. You look at Spencer, his hazel eyes already on you. His face is worried, and you look back at Hotch. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Great, so my dad is a hitman. Amazing. What else could life _possibly_ throw at me right now?” You bite the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply.

Spencer stands, rubbing your lower back. “I think we should talk about this tomorrow. It’s getting late, and we’ve basically been working this nonstop for almost two weeks.”

“I’m gonna agree with Spencer,” Morgan says, standing. “I think we all need to get some sleep and work on this with fresh eyes tomorrow, okay? You and pretty boy can stay with me for the night.”

“What about Savannah?”

Morgan smiles. “She’s working overnight at the hospital tonight.”

Hotch looks at you. “Y/n, I think this is a good idea.”

You exhale slowly, Spencer’s light touch on your back seeming to anchor you to fucking reality. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s take a break.”

“I’m going to take a look at the letters tomorrow to try to decode them,” Spencer assures you, giving you a soft smile.

“For now, though,” Prentiss says, standing up, “we all need some sleep.”

“Thank you guys,” you say, giving them all a tight-lipped smile.

They all nod at you, and you grab your go bag, Spencer throwing his over his shoulder. He laces his fingers with yours, and the two of you follow Morgan out of the BAU. The three of you are quiet, and you yawn as you approach Morgan’s car. Spencer laughs softly and you look at him.

“What?” You ask, admiring the way his curly hair falls in his face.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, getting into Morgan’s passenger seat. 

Morgan laughs as he slides into the front seat, Spencer sitting in the back with the go bags. Morgan starts the car and peels out of the parking lot, glancing at you every so often.

“Are you really okay?” He asks quietly. “I know this might all be overwhelming.”

“I’m coping,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m not as sad as I thought I’d be. Overwhelmed, yes. Sad, no.”

Morgan nods, and Spencer leans forward, rubbing your shoulder softly. You turn your head and smile at him, putting your hand on top of his. Your fingers rub the silver ring on his left ring finger, the smooth metal seeming to calm you. After a few moments, you release his hand, and you hear him slide back in his seat. The ride to Morgan’s apartment is short, and you practically fall onto his guest bed.

Morgan laughs, leaning in the doorway. “The room’s all yours. Make yourself at home.” He starts to walk away but turns back around, pointing at you and Spencer. “But don’t make yourself _too_ comfortable, got it?”

Spencer laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed. You swear you see a slight blush creep into his cheeks. “Morgan, shut up.”

“Just tryna cover all my bases, pretty boy,” he replies with a smirk. He gives you a wink before shutting the door behind him, leaving you and Spencer alone.

The first thing you do is change into some pajamas—a pair of comfy shorts and Spencer’s Caltech sweater. Spencer changes into a pair of Halloween pajama pants and a pumpkin shirt. You giggle when you look at him, his hair wild around his face.

“What?” He asks, plopping down on the bed.

You turn the big light off, climbing onto the bed. “Nothing. You’re just cute.”

You lie on your side, facing him. You reach out, running your fingers through his hair. Your hand travels to his face, rubbing along the stubble starting to form. It’s scratchy, but you love how he looks with a little beard. Spencer smiles at you, and you brush your thumb along his cheek.

“Are you really doing okay?” He asks softly. “You can tell me.”

He scoots closer to you, and you run your fingers through his hair again, brushing out the slight knots that had begun to form. You’re quiet for a moment, and Spencer puts his hand on your waist, his thumb brushing slight circles into the fabric of your top.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet,” you whisper. “I just…don’t feel sad. I feel more angry than sad. I’m just tired.”

“I understand, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Spence.” You admire the way his curls seem to wrap around your fingers, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I…” He pulls you closer to him, your noses almost touching. “I just love you so much, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You smile at him, brushing your nose against his softly. “I know, baby. I love you, too. With my whole fucking heart.”

He grins, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. You kiss him back, resting your hand on the side of his face. The kiss is slow and sweet—one of those kisses that holds endless amount of love. Spencer pulls you flush against him, his hand travelling down to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze. You break the kiss, giggling as his lips travel to your neck.

“Spence, stop, Morgan said not to,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“But you’re so _pretty_ , baby, I can’t resist,” he murmurs into your neck, sucking softly at the skin.

You run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, his lips travelling back to yours. His hands run up your back and after a few moments, you pull away.

“We are _not_ having sex in Derek Morgan’s guest bed,” you mumble against his lips. 

He grins, giving you another soft kiss. “ _Fine_.”

Laughing softly, you turn around, pressing your back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him, if possible. He kisses the back of your head, his fingers rubbing up and down your stomach softly. You close your eyes, comforted by Spencer’s touch.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too.”

**

When your alarm goes off the next morning, you let out a loud groan, Spencer shifting in bed to turn off the alarm on his phone. He wraps his arms around you again, squeezing you, the warmth from his body radiating onto you.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Even after four years, Spencer’s morning voice is still, hands down, the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Morning, baby.”

He kisses your temple before releasing you, but you whine, pulling his arms back on you. Laughing, he props himself up on his elbow, one arm draped over you.

“We have to go to work, sweetheart,” he mumbles, looking down at you.

Turning slightly on your back, you look up at him. “I know, but I just wanna stay like this for just a few more minutes.”

Spencer obliges, kissing your forehead again before wrapping his arms around you. You snuggle into him, savoring the warmth from his touch. After a few more minutes, he drags you to a sitting position, grinning at you. You look at him, his hair sticking up in odd places. Spencer’s bedhead is another thing you’ll never get used to. He looks so fucking cute right out of bed.

“Come on, baby, let’s get to work.”

You yawn as you step onto the cold wood of the floor, walking to the bathroom to pee. You wash your hands, then brush your teeth before throwing your hair up into a ponytail. Walking back into the room, Spencer takes his turn at the sink while you change. You pull on a pair of high-waist black pants, tucking a red blouse into them before pulling on a pair of flats, not wanting to deal with heels for the day. Spencer emerges from the bathroom, walking over to you and giving you a little kiss on the lips, tasting like peppermint. You grin and kiss him back before pulling away, letting him change.

He pulls on a gray button up first, then a patterned tie before pulling on a dark red cardigan, buttoning it up. He pulls on a pair of gray slacks before putting on his Converse, patting down his hair so it didn’t look so crazy. You grab your purse and zip up your go bag before opening the bedroom door, Spencer following you with his go bag slung over his shoulder. 

Morgan smiles at the two of you when you come into the living room, holding a cup of coffee. “You guys are _finally_ up. Hope you weren’t up too late last night.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, giving him a smile. “Can we stop for coffee? We’re gonna be late.”

“I’m sure Hotch won’t mind you being late,” Morgan says, grabbing his keys. “And don’t try to change the subject, I see the little hickey on your neck.”

You grin as the three of you leave his apartment, letting Spencer sit in the passenger seat. You look out the window, watching the city pass around you. Morgan stops so you and Spencer can get coffee, and you take a sip of the hot liquid, waiting for the caffeine to hit you. Morgan parks his car, and you get out, leaving your go bag inside. 

Spencer puts his hand on your lower back as you walk, rubbing his thumb across the fabric of your shirt slowly. As soon as you enter the bullpen, he beelines for the letters, wanting to try to decode them as fast as possible. He sets himself up by a clear board in a conference room, and you meet the rest of the team in the roundtable room. 

“Spencer’s starting to try to decode the letters,” you say, sitting down at the table. “So, my dad’s a hitman, which means obviously someone hired him. And obviously, someone hired him more than once.”

“Which means he’s a good hitman,” JJ says. 

“So, someone hired him repeatedly in the eighties,” Hotch states. “But what doesn’t make sense is why he stopped.”

You shrug. “Maybe…he didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Then why start again four years ago?” Prentiss asks.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know.”

“Where did your father work when you were growing up?” Rossi asks. 

“Uh, he just worked for an accounting place in Gatlinburg. J&J Accounting, I think the name was.” You tap your fingers against the wood of the table.

“I’m gonna get Garcia to do an extensive search on the firm,” Rossi says, standing. 

He leaves the room, and the remainder of the day is spent in the roundtable room, trying to come up with possible theories for your dad’s situation. Garcia comes into the room after a couple hours, her eyebrows furrowed.

“So, J&J Accounting doesn’t exist,” Garcia says. “It’s fake.”

“Of course it is. Why would this be easy,” you mumble, looking up at her.

She gives you a little smile. “But me being the magical computer genius I am, looked into the ruse of J&J Accounting and found the fake name attached to a building in Gatlinburg. Collectively, the name was registered under Michael Evans.”

“I’m assuming another fake name,” Prentiss says, eyebrows raised.

“Mhm, you would be correct,” Garcia states. “ _But_ , I did a little digging and found another name—a _real_ name connected to the fake accounting firm.”

“Who’s name?”

“Kevin Russell. A real guy. I’m doing a background check on him now.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Hotch says, giving her a nod.

“Guys, I cracked the code!” Spencer says, running into the roundtable room. 

The team shoots up from the table, and you all follow Spencer into the little conference room. Letters are splayed out everywhere, the clear board full of his scribbling. Spencer looks at you all, a proud smile on his face.

“So, after rereading the letters for the tenth time, I finally started noticing that some letters held a different weight than others. It’s so subtle, I almost didn’t notice it. When I was in college, I read a book about Francis Bacon and how he came up with a certain cipher. So, basically, he came up with five-character groups, and each represented a character in plaintext.”

“What does that mean, Reid?” Morgan asks, looking at the board.

“You basically group every five letters together and you can decipher it based on what’s bolded or not,” Spencer explains. “So, Hunter says here: ‘We ar **e** having **n** i **ce** w **e** a **th** e **r** **h** ere, d **u** de.’ If you group the letters by fives…” He writes out a cluster of words.

C A L L M E  
Wear **e** havin g **n** i **ce** w **e** a **th** e **rh** er ed **u** de

“Based on Francis Bacon’s key, that’s the code. There’s tons of codes in here, but one I found is really interesting.” Spencer turns his head away from the board. “One particularly lengthy sentence stuck out to me, so I decided to decipher it.”

“And what did it say?” You ask, walking over to the board.

“’You need to call Kevin.’”

“Kevin?” You whip your head toward Garcia. 

Hotch crosses his arms, looking at the board. “Looks like we found the next person we need to interrogate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another update for you guys! This chapter was fun for me to write. I think Spencer and Y/n's relationship is so cute and understanding. They're precious. But yay, they found the partner who was working with her dad! Exciting!  
> Thank you to everyone who reads :) I love y'all.


	12. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds Kevin and an interrogation ensues.

“Kevin Russell, forty-four. Lived in Gatlinburg his whole life until he moved to Virginia four years ago. No wife. No kids. Lives alone.”

You look at Garcia’s screen, shaking your head. “And he was linked to J&J Accounting? The fake firm?”

Garcia nods. “That’s correct, sweetcheeks.”

“So he’s either Joseph’s boss or one of his partners.” You stand up, sighing.

Garcia looks at you, a concerned look on her face. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know life must be crazy for you right now. We’re all here for you, y’know.”

“I know, Pen. I appreciate you guys.” You give her a smile, which she returns. 

The team had left an hour ago to go bring Kevin Russell in—Hotch suggested you stay at Headquarters. You wanted to go, but didn’t protest, opting instead to keep Garcia company while the team is gone. You lean against her desk, giving her a smile.

“Can Spencer, the kids, and I still stay with you tonight, Pen?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Of course, sugar!”

“I’m getting the little mobile crib from Jamie when we pick her up, so Joseph, Spencer, and I can all squeeze onto your guest bed and Rhiannon can sleep in the crib.” You smile at her. “Joseph will want to play with your stuffed animals. He already told me.”

Garcia giggles, swiveling around in her chair. “He can play with as many as he wants.”

“Thanks, Pen.” 

She giggles, looking up at you. “Anything for you, my darling.”

“Hey, sweetheart, we’re back.”

You turn around, eyes landing on Spencer. You stand up, crossing the short distance to where he’s standing by the door, FBI vest still on. He grins, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss, wrapping his arm around your lower back. 

“Did you find him?” You ask, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

He nods. “I don’t think he was expecting us. He seemed really surprised.”

“What did you guys find in his apartment?”

Spencer shakes his head. “Not much. Just a stack of letters, also coded. After the interrogation, I’ll start working on them. If I had to guess, though, he hasn’t been involved in organized crime in a while.”

You give Garcia a small smile as Spencer leads you out of her office. The two of you walk through the building until you get to a small room in front of the interrogation room. You look through the one-way glass, eyes landing on who you deduce to be Kevin Russell.

His gray hair sits straight and thinning on the top of his head, his brown eyes staring at the table in front of him. A pair of square, wire-frame glasses sits on his thick nose, his thin lips turned down into a frown. He taps his fingers on the table, his hands cuffed together in front of him. You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as you look at him, hearing the pull of Velcro as Spencer removes his FBI vest.

“Does he look familiar at all?” Hotch asks, moving to stand beside you.

You shake your head. “Not at all.” You glance at Hotch. “What if he doesn’t even know my dad?”

Hotch tilts his head, staring at Kevin. “He has to. It’s not a coincidence the fake accounting firm is linked to him.”

You cross your arms, glancing at the rest of the team. “Who gets to interrogate him?”

“You and Prentiss.”

“You’re sure it’s a good idea if I go in there?” You ask, turning your head to Hotch.

Hotch’s lips lift up a little in the corners. “You didn’t kill Tyler Miller, the man you _thought_ killed your father, when you were interrogating him. I doubt you’ll kill this one.”

You chuckle, looking back at Kevin. “Let him stew for a few more minutes. He looks anxious.”

Hotch nods and you walk over to the rest of the team, standing beside Spencer. You listen to them talk, trying to calm down your racing heart, locking eyes with Prentiss. Spencer rubs your lower back gently, his touch soft and sweet. You pull your hair out of your ponytail, smoothing it out, pulling the hair tie on your wrist.

“So what are we gonna do? Good cop, bad cop? Or are we just gonna both be bad cop?” Prentiss asks, grinning at you.

“I don’t think this guy responds to nice and sweet, especially if he used to be a hitman. I think both of us being aggressive is the best bet,” you explain, glancing over at Kevin. 

“Then aggressive it is,” Prentiss says, adjusting the gun holster on her hips. 

Spencer leans over, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “You got this.”

“Thanks, baby,” you whisper, turning around to cross to the door.

You enter the interrogation room first, followed by Prentiss. The two of you take a seat in front of Kevin, and his brown eyes focus on both of you. You can see little beads of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, his fingers twiddling together. You and Prentiss don’t say anything, watching Kevin shift in his seat.

“Why am I here?” He asks, his voice quiet.

“Because we want to know why you’re linked to J&J Accounting,” Prentiss states, placing her hands on top of the table.

“Because I worked there.”

You shake your head. “No, you didn’t. J&J Accounting is fake.”

His eyes shift from you to Prentiss, then down to the table. He doesn’t respond, and you narrow your eyes, tapping your fingers against the table.

“Were you a hitman, too, Kevin?” You ask, his head shooting up, eyes landing on you.

“W-What?” 

“Were you a hitman, too?” You repeat, noticing his eyes widen slightly. “Like Joseph Y/l/n?”

“Joseph?” He asks, biting on his bottom lip. “I haven’t talked to Joseph in a long time.”

“But you knew him. You worked with him.” Prentiss sits up straighter in her seat, leaning forward slightly. “You killed with him, right?”

“No—”

“There’s no point in lying to us, Kevin,” you say. “We already know the truth. You were in his letters. You’re linked to the fake firm. So why don’t you just stop trying to cover your ass and tell us the truth.”

Kevin is silent for a moment. “Yes. I was a hitman.”

“But not anymore?” Prentiss asks.

He shakes his head. “No. I left it behind.”

“But you knew Joseph?”

“I worked with Joseph on a lot of jobs.”

You tilt your head, scrunching your brows together. “So you were like his partner?”

“More like an…accomplice. Us hitman don’t really have partners.” Kevin’s eyes flick between you and Prentiss. 

“Who hired you?” You ask, leaning forward, maintaining eye contact with him.

He shrugs, the chains of his cuffs rattling. “We never really knew. It was always the same guy, but we never got a name.”

His eyes flick to Prentiss as she speaks. “No name? Nothing at all?” 

He shakes his head. “No. I know people called him ‘Snake’, but we never got any information beyond that. Just the contract and the cash.”

“Do you know why Joseph stopped killing?” You ask, standing up and walking around to the side of the table.

“A job went wrong, I think,” Kevin says, looking down at the table. “Something happened and Joseph stopped. Tried to live a normal life with his wife. He had a kid on the way.” You swallow, trying not to let any sort of emotion flash across your face.

“Have you had any contact with him?” Prentiss asks.

“No, not since the early nineties.” He looks up at you. “Why are you guys trying to find him anyway?”

“He’s killing again,” you respond, looking down at him. 

“He wouldn’t be killing unless someone else was telling him to,” Kevin says matter-of-factly. 

“He’s threatening someone very close to us,” Prentiss says, eyes flicking to you for a moment before looking back at Kevin. 

“Joseph always makes the kill eventually,” Kevin says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Fear travels down your body, and you stand up fully, hands clenching into fists. “Thank you for your help.”

You pull the interrogation room door open, walking straight past the team. Your stomach turns, and you feel the nausea building in your stomach. You barely make it to the fucking trash can in time, puking until you’re dry heaving. You feel someone pull your hair back as you grip the edge of the trash can, taking in deep breaths while your stomach settles. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Spencer asks, his hand rubbing along your back. “What’s wrong?”

“I think it was just shock,” you murmur, pulling yourself up to a standing position. “I got puke on my shirt.”

“And in your hair,” Spencer says softly, releasing your hair. “Come here, baby, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’ll go get her go bag from my car,” Derek says, pulling his keys out of his pocket and walking out of the bullpen.

Spencer leads you to the bathroom and he lifts you up, setting you on the edge of the counter. He grabs a few paper towels, wetting them before gently taking your hair in between them, cleaning the puke from your hair. His other hand rests on the side of your face, cradling it gently. You look into his hazel eyes and he gives you a small smile.

“You don’t have to do that, Spence,” you whisper.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” he murmurs. 

Derek drops off your go bag before leaving the bathroom, and Spencer throws the paper towels away before digging through your bag. He emerges with your toothbrush, toothpaste, and a new shirt, this one purple. You take off your soiled shirt and Spencer pulls your new one over your head, handing you your toothbrush and toothpaste. 

You slide off the counter and brush your teeth, grateful to get the throw up taste out of your mouth. You glance at yourself in the mirror, eyes glancing over your face. Your eyes are slightly blood shot, your skin pale. The scar above your eyebrow seems to stand out more than usual. You turn around, putting your toiletries back in your go bag, and Spencer wraps his arms around you.

“Are you really okay?” One of his hands stays on your back, the other brushing the hair from your face. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I really just think what Kevin said shocked me. About my dad always eventually makes the kill. I just…got scared.”

Spencer puts his pointer finger under your chin, lifting your head up slowly, his thumb brushing along the skin. “We _will_ find him, sweetheart. Before he hurts anyone else, okay?”

“Okay.” You lean forward, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back, and you teasingly bite his bottom lip, tugging it. 

“Now’s not the time for _that_ ,” he whispers, smiling against your lips. 

You lace your fingers with his, grabbing your go bag. “Come on, let’s go. I don’t want the team to think we’re, like, fucking in here or something.”

Spencer laughs as you two exit the bathroom, and you meet the team in the roundtable room, setting your go bag down. The team looks at you, and you give them a little smile.

“I’m fine. I think I was just shocked.”

“Are you sure?” Hotch asks, leaning forward, placing his hands flat on the table.

“I’m fine, Hotch, I promise.” You lean against the table, Spencer sitting next to you.

“So, basically, what we got from the interrogation is that someone named Snake hired Joseph and Kevin.”

“I have Garcia trying to find anything with the alias ‘Snake’,” Morgan says, tapping his fingers against the table.

“I just feel like we’re running in circles,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“I know it feels that way, piccola, but we’re closer than we were before,” Rossi assures you, giving you a small smile.

“I know, I just—”

The shrill sound of the phone in the center of the table ringing cuts you off, and you scrunch your brows together, looking at Hotch, then Spencer. Hotch presses the answer button, the phone automatically put on speaker.

“Hello, this is SSA Agent Hotchner with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“I want to speak to her.”

Your body physically jolts, and Spencer grabs your hand, looking up at you. Your stomach turns again, and you’re afraid you’re going to throw up a second time. Your heart rate increases, beating so hard against your chest, you’re sure it’s going to fucking break your ribs. You look up at Hotch before looking down at the phone, opening your very dry mouth.

“Hi, dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. :)  
> I forgot to mention last chapter that the code I used was Francis Bacon's code. It definitely wasn't mine! But I'm glad you guys enjoyed it! Also, this book will have about 20 chapters plus an epilogue. So we're a little more than halfway through the fic!   
> I'm so glad everyone is enjoying. I'll be updating more frequently now, as long as I'm not working on school or working!


	13. Phone Calls and Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: violence!

“Hello, little dove.”

Your right hand grips the edge of the table, Spencer holding onto your left tightly. It’s been four years since you’ve heard your father’s voice—but it’s the same as it was the last time you saw him at the Maple in Gatlinburg, eating waffles and celebrating you and Spencer’s engagement. Your eyes flick up to Hotch’s.

“Why are you calling?” You ask through clenched teeth, anger already bubbling beneath the surface of your skin, lighting it on fire.

“I just wanted to talk to my little girl.”

“No,” Hotch says firmly. “You have an ulterior motive, or else you wouldn’t have called. Get to the point.”

“How’s Spencer?” Your father asks, ignoring Hotch’s statement. “Is he doing okay?”

“Don’t talk about my husband,” you snap back. “You’ve put us through hell and back the past two weeks.” You let go of Spencer’s hand, leaning forward on the table. “Now what. Do. You. Want?” You punctuate the end of each word firmly, eyes fixed on the phone in front of you.

“I wanted to meet with you, little dove. And talk.”

“Talk?” You glance up at Hotch. “What do you mean talk?”

“Talk. Speak with you. Converse. They all mean the same thing really.”

You inhale deeply, Spencer wrapping his fingers around your wrist, silently telling you to calm down. “Why do you want to talk? If you get within a hundred fucking feet of me, I _will_ arrest you.”

Your father tuts and gives a low chuckle. “No, you won’t arrest me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I have something you want.”

Your blood runs cold, and you look down at Spencer. Panic flashes through his eyes and you look back toward the phone. You can’t seem to form words, your chest tightening.

“What do you have?” Hotch asks, his voice low.

“Your kids really are cute,” your dad murmurs. “Little Joseph here looks a lot like Spencer.”

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your breathing picking up. “You have our _kids_? What the _fuck_ did you do to Jamie and Kyle?”

“They’re fine, little dove. Everyone’s fine. Now, you’re going to come talk to me in exchange for your little ones. I’ve never been big on hurting children. And in return for your kids, you won’t arrest me. Got it?”

You look at Spencer, his grip so tight on your wrist, it’s starting to cut off your circulation. He looks up at you, tears forming in his own eyes. He stands, and you can see his lower lip tremble slightly. You take a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Where?”

“There’s a warehouse on the outskirts of D.C. Tech Warehouse is the name. Meet me there in two hours. Come alone. Unarmed.”

“No, Spencer’s coming with me. That’s non-negotiable.”

Your dad is silent for a moment. “Fine. See you soon, little dove.”

“Wait.” You place your palms flat on the table. “Let me hear him.”

There’s silence on the other end, and then you hear your son’s voice. “Mama?”

“Hi, baby,” you say, reaching over to grip Spencer’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Grandpa is taking care of us.”

“How’s your sister, big man?” Spencer asks, his voice cracking.

“She’s alright, daddy.”

“Hang in there, buddy, we’re gonna come get you, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, mama. You too, daddy!”

Then the phone goes dead. 

“Can we have a moment?” You ask quietly. Hotch nods, and the team files out, leaving you and Spencer alone.

Spencer pulls you to him, and you can’t help it. You choke on a sob, burying your face in his chest. He sets his forehead in the crook of your neck, and you two stay like that for a moment, his hands running up and down your back slowly. He’s crying—you can feel his body shaking slightly, and you reach up, gently moving your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes, you two pull away, Spencer’s hands still on your back. You reach up, wiping his tears away with your thumb.

“He has our kids,” Spencer says, his voice breaking again.

“I know, baby. We’ll get them back, okay? I promise. He’s gonna fucking pay for this.”

He rests his forehead on yours, sniffling. You close your eyes for a moment, finding comfort from his touch. You press your lips against his softly and he kisses you back. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. We have to get ready to go get our kids back.”

You two lace your fingers together, walking out of the roundtable room. The team turns toward you guys, concern in all of their faces.

“We’re okay,” you say softly, squeezing Spencer’s hand. “Does Garcia have a location yet?”

Hotch nods. “She does. You and Spencer will drive separate, but we’re coming, too. We’ll be outside.”

“We’re getting our kids back first. Hotch, we’re gonna need you to take them. Then I’ll listen to whatever the fuck my father has to say.”

Derek squeezes your shoulder. “We’re behind you, kid. All the way.”

“You know we’d do anything for you guys,” Prentiss says, giving you a smile.

Spencer gives a soft smile to the team, the smile not quite reaching his red-rimmed eyes. “We love you guys. Thank you.”

“We need to get going. Warehouses are about an hour away.” Rossi looks between you and Hotch. 

Your phone rings, and you hold your breath, exhaling slowly when you see the caller ID. “Jamie, are you and Kyle okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Jamie says, a sob catching in her voice. “I-I don’t know what happened. E-Everything went black and w-when Kyle and I woke up, they were gone.” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” you say, looking up at Spencer, his face worried. “We know where they are—it’s my dad. He took them.”

“Are they s-safe?” She asks, still trying to catch her breath.

“Yeah, Jamie, they are. We’re going to go get them, okay? Please don’t beat yourself up about this. It’s not your fault.”

Jamie exhales slowly, and you hear her hiccup. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect them better.”

“Jamie, it’s okay. We have to go, but when we get back, we’ll come by your place, okay?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, Y/n. Please be safe. _Please_.”

“I love you, okay?”

“Love you, too.”

You hang up, shoving your phone in your pants pocket. You look at the team. “Jamie’s freaking out. She feels bad.”

“We’ll get them back, Y/n.” JJ smiles at you, and you give her a curt nod.

You all grab a vest, and you strap it on. You all head out to two SUVs, and you and Spencer climb into one. You buckle your seatbelt, looking over at him. He starts the car and meets your eyes, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze.

“You know I love you, right?” He whispers, a small smile on his face.

“I love you, too, baby.”

He squeezes your hand again before starting the drive to the warehouse. You two are silent, Spencer’s hand finding yours. You rub your thumb along his slowly, trying to calm him down. He might not show it on the outside, but you know he’s fucking freaking out on the inside. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” you whisper, looking straight ahead out the windshield.

“What are you sorry for, sweetheart? You have nothing to be sorry about. You can’t control what he does.”

“I know, I just…” You trail off, and Spencer squeezes your hand.

“This is _not_ your fault,” he says sternly. “Please don’t blame yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

After about fifteen more minutes, Spencer pulls into a lot, a single warehouse dimly lit by lamplight. You get out, meeting the team by their SUV. They wire you and Spencer up, and you inhale deeply.

“You’re both wired. If anything stars going south, leave. Don’t ask questions.” Hotch’s intense gaze is fixed on you. “I don’t want you two getting hurt.”

You nod. “Understood.”

You give Hotch your gun, Spencer doing the same. You turn toward Spencer, pulling him in for a tight hug, awkward because of the FBI vest. After a moment, you pull away, planting a kiss on his lips. He smiles as he pulls back, giving you a little nod.

“Come on. Let’s go get our kids.”

You turn toward the dimly lit warehouse, you and Spencer walking toward the door. You put a hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before opening the door and walking inside. 

The warehouse is dimly lit, the overhead fluorescents flickering every so often. Boxes line the walls, a ladder leading up to an open second floor. You feel Spencer’s hand on your back, and your eyes land on the man in front of you.

Your dad turns around, cradling Rhiannon in his arms. Your son turns around, his eyes lighting up when he sees you and Spencer. You almost cry as he runs toward you, and you bend down, opening your arms. He runs into them, and you pick him up, squeezing him tightly. You’re almost crying, and Spencer strokes his curls, kissing the top of his head. 

“Hi, mama! Hi, daddy!” He says, burying his face in your neck.

“Hi, big man,” Spencer whispers. “We’ve missed you.”

You lock eyes with your dad, and it feels like your whole fucking world is spinning. 

He looks the same as he did four years ago—dressed in flannel, jeans, and boots. His eyes land on your face, and his lips turn up into a smile. Your lips stay in a flat line, and you lower Joseph to the ground, Spencer taking his hand. Anger swirls in your chest, and you narrow your eyes.

“Give Rhiannon to Spencer, then back the fuck up.”

Your dad slowly walks over to Spencer, and Spencer looks down at his daughter, taking him from your dad, cradling her in his arms. You plant a kiss on her forehead, and you bend over, looking at your son.

“Daddy’s gonna take you to see Uncle Aaron, okay? He’s outside waiting for you.”

“Okay, mama!”

Spencer turns around, Joseph pattering after him. You stand back up, looking at your father. You hear the warehouse door open, Spencer delivering the kids to Hotch. 

“You look good, little dove. Motherhood suits you.” 

“No, we’re not doing this. We’re not doing the small talk.”

You hear the door open again, Spencer walking back inside. He falls in line beside you, his hand returning to your back. Your steely gaze meets your father’s.

“First and foremost, if you ever fucking touch our kids again, I will kill you.” Spencer’s voice surprises you, low and cold. 

“Why so hostile, Spencer? That’s no way to talk to your father-in-law.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Dad, what did you want to talk about?” You change the subject, feeling Spencer practically seething next to you. 

“I hear you’re trying to dig up my past. You’re doing a pretty good job,” your dad says, his voice quiet. “I think you should leave the past alone, little dove.”

“Did you kill mom?” You ask, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Your father is quiet for a moment. “We’re not going to talk about your mom.”

“Okay, fine. Who hired you? Why the fuck are you doing all of this?”

“That’s a complicated question, little dove.” Your dad takes a couple steps back, looking down at the ground. 

“Then why don’t you fucking explain.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“I can’t.”

“Like hell you can’t. I need some _answers_ from you. I’ve been in the dark my entire fucking life.”

“I _can’t_.” Your dad looks into his eyes, and you see something you thought you’d never see: pain. 

“Why not?”

“Because…I…they’re lis—”

That’s when you hear a gunshot.

The bullet ricochet off the steel wall, and you frantically look around. You meet your dad’s eyes, pure fucking _panic_ running through you. You look at Spencer, and you don’t hesitate, gripping his wrist, both of you fucking bolting for the door. You hear Spencer groan as you push the door open, breaking his wrist from your grasp. You whip your head around, watching as Spencer clutches his arm. 

“Come on, baby, get to the car,” you plead, Spencer nodding as you two pick up the pace.

You dig the keys out of his pocket, watching the team piling into their SUV. You get into the driver’s side, Spencer climbing into the passenger’s side, letting out a painful groan as he buckles his seat belt. You start the car, hearing the clank of bullets as they ricochet off the SUV. You peel out of the warehouse lot, hearing the tires squeal against the pavement, leaving your dad and the warehouse behind as you drive back in the direction of Quantico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day? Who am I??  
> Ooh, the suspense! I wonder what Joseph meant by "they"? Anyone have any guesses?   
> I love y'all!


	14. Hospitals and Codes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the warehouse shooting.

“Ow, _fuck_.”

Spencer grips your hand tighter as the nurse stiches his arm, and you turn your head to look at him, meeting his eyes.

“Hey, you’re _fine_. It’s just a graze. You didn’t even really get shot.”

“It still hurts,” he says through clenched teeth, exhaling slowly when the nurse backs up.

“Alright, Dr. Reid. You’re all done.”

“Thank you,” he says, giving the nurse a small smile. “Um, could you do me a favor? Can you go into the waiting area and tell Aaron Hotchner to bring us our kids?”

“Of course.”

You sit on the edge of the hospital bed Spencer’s sitting in. Glancing around the emergency room, your mind races, thinking about the past hour and a half of your life. The fluorescents hurt your eyes, and you can feel a headache beginning to pound at your skull. You briefly close your eyes, your free hand rubbing your temples, trying to wane off the pain in your head.

“Daddy!”

Opening your eyes, you spot Joseph running ahead of Hotch, who’s holding Rhiannon. Surprisingly, Jamie walks beside him, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. You break your grip on Spencer’s hand, Joseph running over to the edge of the bed. Spencer leans over, picking up his son and hugging him, scattering kisses on the top of his head. You get up, taking Rhiannon from Hotch. She giggles, gripping onto your shirt, her hazel eyes looking up at your face.

“Hey, honey,” you say, kissing her forehead.

“Mama,” she murmurs, leaning her head forward to rest on your chest, just under your neck.

You look at Spencer and smile before sitting on the edge of his bed. You ruffle Joseph’s curls, and he nestles himself onto Spencer’s lap. You revel in this seemingly rare moment—your whole family together, all four of you. You look up at Hotch, running your fingers through Rhiannon’s curls.

“Thanks, Hotch. For keeping them safe during all of that.”

Hotch nods. “Always.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Take tonight to recoup; we’ll meet tomorrow in the office. We need to talk about everything that happened at that warehouse.”

You give him a nod, and Joseph waves by to Hotch as he walks away. You look at Jamie, and she gives you a half-hearted smile.

“Jamie, are you okay?” You ask, knitting your brows together.

Jamie nods. “I have a bit of a headache, but Kyle and I are fine. I, um, brought the car seats and the crib for Rhiannon. I also have their little bags with their stuff. Your team actually helped me load it into your SUV.”

You stand up, careful not to jostle Rhiannon as you walk toward Jamie, putting your hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about this, okay? I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

Her blue eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Y/n, this is _not_ your fault. Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

“Well, thank you for watching the kids. And thanks for bringing us their stuff.”

You give her a side hug, difficult with Rhiannon in your arms, and she looks at you, her blue eyes boring into yours. “Please be safe. Let us know if you need anything, okay? I can even drive the getaway car if I need to.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I know, Jamie. We’ll let you know, okay? Get home to Kyle. I’m sure he’s worried.”

She squeezes your shoulder before turning around and walking away. You sit back on the edge of the bed, turning to look at Joseph. He looks at you with wide, hazel eyes.

“Honey, can I ask you a couple questions?” You ask him, feeling Rhiannon’s breathing start to even out. 

Joseph nods. “Mhm, mama.”

“The man who took you—”

“You mean, grandpa?”

“No, honey, he’s not your grandpa. He was just pretending…like a game.” You say your words softly and slowly.

Joseph knits his little eyebrows together. “He was playing a game?”

“Mhm. He came and got you at Auntie Jamie’s, right?”

“Yeah, he said we were going on a trip to see you and daddy.”

You lock eyes with Spencer, gripping Rhiannon tighter. Spencer runs his fingers through his son’s hair, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Was he nice? Did he say anything else?” Spencer asks.

“He just talked about mama a lot. I think he was telling us stories of when she was little.” Joseph tilts his head all the way back, looking up at Spencer. “He was nice, daddy.” Your son yawns, eyes still fixed on Spencer’s face. “I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, sweet boy,” Spencer murmurs. “We’re gonna head to Auntie Penelope’s in just a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Joseph mumbles, leaning back against Spencer. 

After a few minutes, a nurse walks over with discharge papers. Spencer fills them out quickly, and within fifteen minutes, you were loading your sleeping kids into the SUV. You get into the driver’s side, turning the car on and leaning your head back against the headrest. You turn to look at Spencer and he meets your eyes, his lips tugging up at the corners.

“I’m sorry you almost got shot,” you murmurs, reaching over to lace your fingers with his.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he replies, stroking your thumb with his. “The most important thing is we have our kids.”

You nod. “I know. I love you, baby.”

“I love you.”

You shake your grip from his hand, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the spot before beginning the drive to Garcia’s. Spencer pulls your hand back over to his, cradling the one in both of his. You drive quickly to Garcia’s, exhaustion slowly creeping into your body by the second. You park outside of Garcia’s apartment, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

She answers on the first ring. “Hey, sugar.”

“Hey, Garcia, Spence and I are outside. Could you come get Rhiannon? She’s sleeping and I have to carry the crib up.”

“Of course, I’ll be out in a sec.”

You hang up, turning the SUV off and getting out of the car. Garcia comes down the stairs in a hurry, practically crashing into you with a hug. You hug her back, laughing softly. 

“I’m glad you’re all okay,” she whispers.

You release her, looking at her face. “Us, too.”

You give her the kid’s overnight bags, and she picks Rhiannon up, careful not to wake her as she walks back up to her apartment. Spencer slings his go bag over his shoulder before picking up Joseph, and you pick up your go bag, pulling it onto your shoulder. You pick up the folded, mobile crib, thankful that it’s not too heavy. You lock the SUV before you walk up the steps to Garcia’s apartment, Joseph waking up through all the commotion.

“Daddy, put me down,” he says sleepily. “I wanna go see Auntie Penny’s stuffed animals.”

Spencer laughs and sets Joseph down, watching him run on his little legs to Garcia’s room. You and Spencer go into her guest room, and you open the crib. 

“There are extra blankets and pillows in the hall closet,” Garcia says, handing Rhiannon to Spencer. “I’ll go get you a couple for the crib, okay?”

Joseph runs into the guest bed, holding a stuffed unicorn. “Look! It’s so pretty!”

You laugh, running your fingers through his curls. “Yeah, buddy, it is.”

“Can I get one?”

“Soon, big man,” Spencer says, cradling a sleeping Rhiannon.

Garcia returns with a few blankets, and you make up the crib, Spencer kissing the top of Rhiannon’s head before setting her into the crib. You look at Garcia, giving her a small smile.

“Thanks for letting us crash here, Pen. Seriously.”

“Auntie Penny, can I borrow your unicorn for the night?” Joseph asks, looking up at Garcia.

“That, my sweet child, is Rainbow Pretty Pop, and yes, you can,” Garcia answers, grinning at your son.

“Thank you!” 

Garcia puts a hand on your shoulder. “If you two need anything, let me know.”

“Could you actually watch them tomorrow morning? Spence and I are gonna need to shower and we have to talk to the team about what happened tonight.”

“Of course, anything you need, sugar.”

She tells you and Spencer goodnight, and you change Joseph into his pajamas, watching him crawl up to the head of the bed, right in the middle. He practically falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, and you look at Spencer, chuckling. You two get changed into some pajamas before you turn off the big light. You situate yourself on the right side of the bed, Spencer on the left, Joseph in the middle of you two.

He reaches over, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I feel like I don’t tell you this enough, but you, my dear, are the love of my life. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You kiss the palm of his hand, meeting his eyes. “Spencer Reid, don’t talk to me like you’re afraid something’s gonna happen to me. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too, baby.”

He leans over, and you two share a soft kiss before breaking apart. You grin at him, kissing his nose, watching his own lips turn up into a smile. You two lie on your sides, foreheads touching for a while, Joseph sleeping peacefully in between you two. Spencer’s fingers run through your hair slowly, and before you know it, you succumb to the depths of sleep.

**

“So, let’s discuss what happened last night.”

You exhale slowly, leaning forward in your seat. “Something my dad was saying before the shooting started has been bugging me.”

“What’s that?” Morgan asks, tapping his fingers against the table.

You look out at the bullpen, watching Spencer reading over the letters from Kevin’s apartment. “Literally _right_ before it started, I saw…pain in his eyes when he was telling me he couldn’t talk to me about the past. And then he started to say something along the lines of ‘They’re listening’. And that’s when the shooting started.”

“I thought he was talking about us. That’s what it sounded like through the wire,” Prentiss says, pushing her brows together.

You shake your head. “No. I think it was about someone else.” You’re quiet for a moment. “I think the person who hired my dad was there watching us. And I think that’s who was shooting at us.”

“So you think your dad is still alive?” JJ leans back in her seat.

“I do.”

“And you think he’s being threatened?”

“I don’t know!” You give an exasperated sigh. “There’s just something off about all of this. I don’t know what it is, but I can _feel_ it.”

“Well, if they tried to kill you and Spencer, they must really not want him to talk about it,” Rossi states. “Which begs the question: who hired your dad?”

You deflate, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t know. All we have to go on is the name ‘Snake’, and that’s practically nothing.”

“We’ll keep digging,” Hotch reassures you, giving you a quick nod.

“I think I found something in the letters,” Spencer mumbles, coming into the roundtable room, holding one of the letters. You stand, leaning your hands against the table. “It’s in the same code as the letters between Hunter and Joseph—Francis Bacon’s code. Plus, these letters were all written, I’d say, in the mid-nineties, maybe even late nineties.”

“So, what did you find?” Rossi asks.

“A line that says ‘You need to watch out, Joseph. Samuel knows that you failed, and he’s not a very forgiving person.’” Spencer looks up at you, his brows scrunched together.

“Do you think that’s the name of the guy who hired him?”

“I thought Kevin didn’t know who hired them,” you say, tilting your head.

“He could’ve been lying,” Prentiss says. “To help save Joseph.”

“There’s something else,” Spencer says, his eyes flicking back down to the letters.

“What is it?” Hotch asks, crossing his arms.

Spencer hesitates a moment before speaking. “’I need to be careful. Sophia’s becoming increasingly more suspicious of me. I don’t want to have to take care of that problem, too.’” 

You gasp softly, a jolt running through your body. Spencer looks up at you, concern flashing through his eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“The name,” you breathe out. “Sophia was my mom’s name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise y'all, all the pieces will come together eventually! I'm sorry the last chapter was so HECTIC. I hope this helped explain some of what happened.  
> I appreciate y'all so much! Thank you to everyone who reads :)


	15. Showers and Letters

“My dad really did kill my mom.”

You sit back down in your seat, putting your forehead in your hands. You can’t cry—you literally have nothing left. You can’t fucking _feel_.

You don’t talk about your mother much. The only person you talk to about her is Spencer—he’s spent hours listening to you talk about your childhood, the way she baked, the way she would sing you to sleep, the way she smelled—cedarwood and bergamot. He was the first person you uttered her name to, thirteen years after you’d watched your dad speak at her funeral, a close casket ceremony. He hadn’t wanted you to see her like that, embalmed and unnatural. 

And now, it was he who spoke her name instead of you, his soft voice echoing around the silent room, but in that moment, it’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard. You feel a hand on your back—Spencer’s—rubbing circles in your back gently, the entire team silent. No one even _moves_. 

The letters from Kevin’s were from around the mid-nineties. So, what, your mom suspected him and he _killed_ her? You squeeze your eyes shut; Spencer’s touch warm on your back. Here he is again—your anchor, seeming to ground you when you feel like the floor’s been ripped out from underneath you.

Sometimes you feel like you don’t deserve him.

After a few moments, you take a deep breath, lifting your head up. You look at Hotch, his usual intense gaze surprisingly soft. He looks at you, then Spencer, before looking at the team. 

“We need to try to narrow down who this Samuel is. Everyone go do your research.” The team stands, but you stand rooted in place in your seat. “Y/n, stay here. Take a moment.”

“Can you check on Pen in her cave? She has our kids.” Spencer’s voice is soft. “Rhiannon’s in her stroller.”

Hotch nods. “Take all the time you guys need in here, okay?”

You give a slight nod, Spencer moving to sit in the chair next to you. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds your leg hand with his left, his right hand still rubbing your back. You turn your head slightly, looking at him. His hazel eyes search your face, still not saying anything.

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “I think I’m in shock.”

“Of course you’re in shock,” he says softly. “You just found out something really big.” He scoots his chair closer to you, wrapping his arm around you. You put your head on his chest, your forehead resting on the side of his neck. 

“He killed her, Spence.” Your voice breaks slightly, and he squeezes you a little tighter.

He strokes your hair, fingers running through the small knots that had formed. “You don’t know that, sweetheart.”

“I do,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t reply, just continues to move his fingers through your hair. After a few moments, you lift your head up, and Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead. He rests his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing your cheek. You close your eyes, little strands of Spencer’s hair tickling your cheek. You laugh softly, opening your eyes. His hazel eyes look into yours, a smile on his face.

“What?” He asks, pulling away slightly.

“Your hair tickles.”

“Usually you say my little beard tickles,” he jokes, his smile widening.

“It does!”

His eyes search yours for a moment before scanning your face. “You’re so beautiful.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Spencer giggles softly before pressing his lips to yours, capturing you in a soft kiss. You kiss him back, placing your hand over his on your cheek. After a moment, you pull away, smiling against his lips.

That’s what’s magical about Spencer—it seems like he always knows exactly what to do to make you feel better. He doesn’t even have to say anything. He just _knows_ you. His touch is comforting, his voice calms you down—he’s your rock. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For?”

“For just…being you.”

“Well, I don’t really know how to be anyone else.”

You laugh, slapping his cheek lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughs, pushing your hair away from your face. “Well, you’re welcome.”

The doors to the roundtable room opening makes you jump slightly, and you hear the little patter of feet. Joseph runs around the table, immediately reaching for Spencer. Spencer laughs, picking Joseph up, setting him in his lap.

“Hey, big man!” 

“Hi, daddy!”

Hotch comes in wheeling Rhiannon, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry, he _really_ wanted to see you guys.”

You ruffle your son’s curls. “It’s alright. How’s it been with Auntie Pen, hm?”

“It’s so fun!” Joseph beams at you. “We were watching Star Wars.”

“Which one?” Spencer asks, looking down at Joseph.

“Attack of the Clones.”

“That’s a good one!”

Joseph giggles, leaning back onto Spencer’s chest. Hotch wheels Rhiannon over, and you grin at your daughter, watching her take one of your fingers in her tiny hands. Spencer looks at her, a small smile on his face. 

“How are you doing?” Hotch asks softly.

“I’m okay. Better. Over the initial shock,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

“I have Garcia doing a background, trying to narrow down who this Samuel might be,” Hotch whispers.

You nod, looking up at him. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“Garcia’s again.”

“You can stay with me the rest of the week. Jessica can watch Jack and the kids. I’ll let her know you’re dropping them off tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Spencer says, watching Joseph trace the lines on his palm.

Hotch nods. “Of course.”

The rest of the day is spent in the roundtable room, you and Spencer doing your own paper research. Joseph stays on his dad’s knee, Spencer bouncing him, the sound of his joyous giggles filling the room every so often. Not much comes of your research, and when the end of the day comes, you want to pull your fucking hair out.

“We’ll meet here tomorrow morning. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Hotch says, nodding at you before heading to his office.

You glance at the team, gripping the handles of Rhiannon’s stroller. “Thank you guys.”

Prentiss smiles at you. “Always.”

You laugh softly before waving by to the rest of the team, you and Spencer heading out to your car. You strap the kids in, Spencer choosing to drive. You lean your head back in the passenger’s seat, your hand finding his as he begins the short drive to Garcia’s apartment. Spencer’s thumb brushes yours slowly, his eyes fixed on the road.

“Mama, we’re staying with Uncle Aaron tomorrow?”

“Mhm, you get to see Jack and play with him while we’re at work.”

Joseph mumbles a soft ‘yay’, and you see him dozing off in his car seat. You smile to yourself, looking at your son in the rearview mirror. He really does look like Spencer—his hair, although your color, holds Spencer’s messy curls, his eyes the same color as your husband’s. His nose slopes the same, and light freckles cover his cheeks. It seems unfair that you went through labor with two fucking kids just for them to turn out exactly like Spencer, but that’s not really his fault. Blame his strong fucking genes.

Spencer pulls into Garcia’s apartment complex, her car already resting in a parking spot. You get out, pulling Rhiannon into your arms. She grips your shirt, and you watch Spencer carefully pick up Joseph, his sleeping son’s cheek resting against his shoulder. You grin, walking up the steps to Garcia’s apartment. The door’s unlocked, and you enter, Garcia lounging on her couch with a glass of wine.

“Hey, angels!” She says, standing up.

“Hey, sweet thing,” you say, grinning at her.

Spencer goes into the bedroom, no doubt laying Joseph on the bed. He returns a few moments later, running his hand down your back slowly. You look at Garcia, her face somewhat concerned.

“I heard about what happened today. Are you—”

“I’m alright,” you say softly. “I think I’m gonna shower though.”

Spencer’s eyes flick to your face and he looks back at Garcia. Garcia looks at you, then at Spencer, then back at you before her eyes widen slightly. She sets down her wine glass, holding out her hands.

“Say no more, give me the sweet child.”

You laugh, handing her Rhiannon. She raises her eyebrows at you and Spencer, a small laugh leaving her.

“Don’t have _too_ much fun in there.”

“Garcia, it’s _just_ a shower.”

“Mhm, sure.”

You giggle, grabbing Spencer’s hand. You two walk into the bedroom, taking off your shoes and grabbing a change of clothes and a couple towels before walking into the bathroom. You glance at Spencer as he locks the door, pulling your top over your head. You push your pants down, along with your panties, discarding them on the floor. Your bra is next, and Spencer moves past you, already naked, turning the shower on.

He grins as he faces you, waiting for the water to heat up. He plants soft kisses on your forehead and down to your cheeks, a soft giggle leaving you. When the steam fills the room, you both step into the shower, letting the hot water roll down your body. Spencer’s hands run up your back to your shoulders, and he starts gently massaging the knots that have formed in your back and shoulders. You tilt your head, eyes fluttering shut. 

His fingers work at your muscles, a soft sigh leaving you. He chuckles, thumbs digging into the base of your neck. “You’re so tense, sweetheart. You need to relax.”

Spencer’s fingers are fucking _magic_ , and if you weren’t fucking standing in the shower, you’re sure you’d fall asleep. After a couple minutes, he turns you around, running his hands down your back. He holds eye contact with you as he sinks to his knees, your back hitting the shower wall. He puts his hand under your thigh, lifting your leg to his shoulder.

You suppress a groan as he licks up your slit, his tongue swirling around your clit. Your hand moves to his hair, your fingers twisting in the long locks, pulling him closer to you. He laughs against your clit, taking it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it rapidly. Your other hand covers your mouth, thankful that it stifles your moans as you look down at Spencer. 

He pulls back, the fingers of his left hand teasing your entrance. “Let me make you feel good, baby,” he whispers, planting kisses on the inside of your thighs. “You’ve been so stressed, let me help.”

You nod, a soft whimper leaving you as he slides two fingers inside of your pussy. He curls them, hitting your g-spot, his mouth reconnecting with your clit. Water drips off the ends of his hair, and he looks up at you, his hazel eyes connecting with yours. His fingers move faster, hitting your g-spot every time, and you tug on his hair.

He groans softly against your clit, the sound vibrating your clit. His tongue flicks faster over the little bundle of nerves, and he adds a third finger. Your head tilts back, hitting the shower wall as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Fuck,” you whisper against your hand, already feeling the knot tighten in your lower stomach. 

Spencer’s tongue mores faster against your clit, urging you to come on his face. He presses his face further into your pussy, his fingers pumping into you faster. You look down at him, your breathing shallow, your legs shaking slightly as he meets your eyes. Your orgasm hits you hard—it’s been a while—and you stifle your moans with your hand, your pussy throbbing around Spencer’s fingers. He slows his pace, removing his mouth from your clit, sucking softly at the skin of your inner thighs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers out of you.

He lifts your leg off his shoulder, standing slowly. You take his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue over them, sucking lightly. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, and you wrap your hand around his hard dick, a soft groan leaving him. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, his lips crashing onto yours. You kiss him back, pumping his dick in your hand slowly.

You break the kiss after a moment, looking at him as you kneel down, your tongue immediately moving to swirl around his tip. Spencer tugs at your hair, pulling your attention to his face.

“You don’t have to, baby. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

You shake your head. “No, let me. _Please_.”

He hesitates a moment before he nods, his hand settling lightly on the back of your head. You don’t hesitate, opening your mouth and taking him into your mouth. You slowly bob your head on his dick, Spencer biting his bottom lip to stifle his moans. His grip tightens in your hair, and you take him deeper.

You gag softly on his dick, trying to keep the noise down as he leans his head back on the tile of the shower wall, hazel eyes fixed on you. He begins moving your head gently, settling on a faster pace. You let him; your tongue pressed flat on the underside of his shaft. Your reach your hand up, slowly dragging your nails down his slightly toned stomach, feeling the muscles tense underneath your hand.

You can feel him getting harder in your mouth, his hips thrusting slightly to meet your head. He hits the back of your throat, and you suppress your gags, not wanting to make too much fucking noise. After a few more thrusts, he lets out a soft groan, his dick throbbing in your mouth as he shoots his load down your throat. You swallow, swirling your tongue around his dick and his tip as you release him from your mouth.

He helps you stand, wrapping his arms around you. He presses his lips against yours softly, moving them slowly. You kiss him back, your fingers twisting in his wet hair. After a moment, you two break apart.

The rest of the shower is quick, Spencer washing your hair and your body. You do the same for him, giggling when he kisses across your shoulder and up your neck, his hands rubbing your back softly.

The amount of love you have for this man is unreal.

After the shower, you two dry off, and you moisturize before pulling on your pajamas. You brush out your hair, deciding to brush Spencer’s as well before you two exit the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand. You put your dirty clothes in the guest room before walking into Garcia’s living room. She’s drinking from her wine glass, cradling a sleeping Rhiannon.

“Sorry we took forever,” you say, bending down to take Rhiannon from her.

She laughs, giving you a sly smile. “It’s fine, sweetie. Get some sleep, okay?”

You nod. “Will do.”

Spencer tells her goodnight, and you two walk back into the guest room, Joseph still sleeping on the bed. You kiss Rhiannon’s forehead as you place her in bed, turning off the big light. You and Spencer settle in bed, Joseph squished in between you two. Spencer reaches over, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

**

You take a sip from your coffee as you push open the doors of the BAU, Spencer treading behind you. You yawn as you make your way to your desk, setting your coffee down. You and Spencer had dropped the kids and their things at Hotch’s house, feeling a slight weight lift from your shoulders knowing Jessica is watching them. A FedEx envelope on your desk catches your eye, and you scrunch your brows, lifting up the envelope. You open it, pulling out a small piece of paper. 

“Guys.”

Your voice rings out around the bullpen, catching the attention of the team. They rush over to your desk as you read over the piece of paper, your hands shaking as you read words written in very familiar handwriting.

_”Meet me on the corner of Sixth and Hobbs. Ten o’clock. Tonight. It’s time we finally talk.”_

“What the fuck?” You murmur, looking at Hotch.

Hotch scrunches his brows. “Let’s get to the roundtable room. We need to talk.”

**

“I still don’t understand why you wanted to do this.” 

You look up at Spencer, adjusting the Kevlar vest on your torso. “It could be useful, Spence. Plus the team is going to be right here the whole time.”

Spencer sighs, leaning against the back of the van. “I know…I’m just worried, y’know.”

“I know.” You reach up, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Come on.” You take a deep breath, holding the mic on your vest up to your mouth. “We’re heading to the corner.”

“Copy that.” Hotch’s voice rings in your ear.

You grab Spencer’s hand, the other resting on your gun. As you walk across the street, you see a figure in the darkness, the street only illuminated by a couple of streetlamps. The closer you get, the more your nerves seem to fill you, your grip on Spencer’s hand growing tighter. You bite the inside of your cheek, as you approach the figure, their back turned to you.

“We’re here, like you asked. What is it you wanted to talk to us about?”

You weren’t prepared for the person to turn around.

Long, straight hair—the same color as yours—falling to just below the waist. Round eyes. Pink lips turned up in a small smile, a small gap in between the two front teeth. A light dusting of freckles scattered across the cheeks. She looks older—much older than you remember. Your body actually jolts, Spencer looking over at you, concern flashing through his eyes. You’re surprised you even find the words to speak, the lump in your throat threatening to cut your fucking breathing off. 

“Mom?”

“Hello, little dove.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, a little smut for you all.  
> BUT HOLY SHIT. YES. IT'S TRUE. IT'S HAPPENING. HER MOM IS ALIVE.  
> Thank you to all who read! I love everyone's comments. :)


	16. Memories

“Is this a good idea?”

You cross your arms, Spencer’s hand on your back the only thing keeping you fucking tied to the ground right now. You look up at Hotch, nodding.

“Yes.”

“Y/n, you’re in shock right now, you—”

“Hotch, please.” You look into his eyes. “I brought her here because it’s safer. And because we _need_ to talk. And I won’t be the only one talking—everyone’s gonna be in the room.”

You glance at the roundtable room, eyeing your mother sitting at the wooden table. She’s fiddling with her fingers—her nervous habit. Her eyes are glued to the table, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

The initial shock has worn off, leaving you with questions and a weird sense of emptiness. Your mom is _alive_. Spencer had to hold you up to keep your fucking knees from buckling, because your whole world was spinning. After several minutes of Spencer trying to help steady your fucking breathing, you’d told your mom you would only talk to her back at the BAU.

That’s why, now, looking at her fidgeting in the conference room, your stomach flips. You exhale slowly, looking back up at Hotch. The team is gathered around you, trying to keep a suitable distance. They’re afraid you’re going to fucking break at any minute—and part of you doesn’t fully know how you’re going to react when your brain catches up with everything that’s happening.

“Do you trust me?” You ask Hotch, crossing your arms in front of you.

“With my life.”

“Then trust me. Having all of you there will…help. I’m assuming she wants to tell me what the fuck happened sixteen years ago when I thought she fucking _died_.” You lean into Spencer, his hand resting on your waist now.

Spencer’s hand rubs across your waist gently. “We’ll be there. All of us.”

“And maybe I can finally get some answers,” you mutter, glancing back over at the roundtable room. 

Hotch hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Wait.” The team turns toward you and you inhale deeply. “She’s probably going to say some personal stuff. Don’t let it make you uncomfortable.”

“I feel like we’re the ones who should be saying that to you,” Morgan says, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s okay.” You give him a small smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Spencer keeps his hand on your back, pressing a quick kiss to the top of you head as you and the team walk to the roundtable room. Hotch shuts the door behind him, and you sit next to your mom, Spencer sitting on the other side of you. Your mom looks up with wide eyes, looking around at the members of the team before looking at you, her eyes settling on yours.

“Hello again.”

She’s older—much older than you remember. Her hair is gray at the roots, the wrinkles on her face more prominent. Her eyes are the same—but some of the sparkle, the life is gone. Her voice, though, that sounds exactly the same. The same voice that would sing you to sleep when you were little so you wouldn’t get nightmares.

Hotch clears his throat. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief here at the BAU.”

“I know who you are, Agent Hotchner,” your mother says, tearing her gaze away from you and looking up at him. “I…know who all of you are, actually.” She turns her head, eyes landing on Spencer. “It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s been making my daughter so happy.”

Spencer reaches over, lacing his fingers with yours. “I—uh, I don’t really know how to respond to that right now.” You know if you looked at him, his brows would be pushed together, the little lines prominent in between them. You squeeze his hand reassuringly, feeling like you’re going to fucking vomit everywhere.

Your mom’s eyes drift to you. “I…I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” You ask, leaning back in your seat. You don’t mean for your voice to sound as cold as it does, but it comes out icy, seeming to bring the temperature of the room down.

“Honey…you have to know that what I did was for you. To protect you.”

“Stop. Don’t ‘honey’ me. Not right now.” Spencer squeezes your hand again, and you feel all the eyes in the room on you.

Your mom doesn’t look hurt—but she shifts in her seat, swallowing. “When you were young…I started feeling like something was _off_ about your father. Things weren’t how they used to be before we got married.”

“What do you mean by that?” You study your mother, trying to read her body language. 

“There was just…a lot of secrecy. And normally, your dad was a pretty secretive man. He didn’t tell me a lot about his past, even after we were married. But I never asked questions—even though part of me knew I should.” Your mom averts her gaze, glancing down at the table. Her eyes are far away, her thumb running against her arm. “I started…snooping. Eavesdropping on private conversations when he thought I was sleeping.” 

“You snooped a little too much, didn’t you?” Morgan asks, your mom’s eyes flicking to him for a second.

She nods. “I did. I didn’t like what I found.”

“What did you find?” You ask the question, but you already know the answer.

She’s quiet for a moment. “He was a hitman. I didn’t…quite know how deep he was into contracted killing. But I knew he was for hire. I confronted him one night about it.”

“I don’t ever remember you two fighting,” you murmur, scrunching your brows together. “Ever.”

“Because we never did,” your mom replies, looking at you, a small smile on her face. “We were in bed. It was late—you’d been asleep for hours. He tried…explaining to me what he was, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I wanted to leave.”

“You didn’t let him explain?” Hotch asks, his voice quiet.

She shakes her head. “He tried. But I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t _want_ to listen.” She meets your eyes again. “I told him I wanted out. Out of everything. I wanted to take you with me, but he wouldn’t let me take you.”

“Why?” Your voice is so quiet, you’re surprised she even hears it.

“He said it was to keep you safe. He said if we both left, some people would become… _suspicious_. He can’t be a hitman if he can’t keep his identity a secret. And me knowing was a threat.”

“So…he, what? Helped you fake your death?” You can already feel tears brimming in your eyes. “You did that to _protect_ me? Do you know what I went through after that?” Your lower lip trembles, Spencer squeezing your hand harder. “I’m the one who came home and discovered your dead body on your bed! Do you think that _protected_ me?!”

“Honey—”

“No!” You stand up, shaking Spencer’s hand from yours. “You know what, I’m glad you got out, and I’m glad you got to live a life worry free without dad and without _me_ , but my life has been _hard_.” You look down at your mom, tears falling freely down your cheeks. “I was depressed, I cut myself, I wasn’t happy with my _life_. But I helped myself, I made a better life for myself, _I_ did that! Without your help.” You angrily wipe at your face. “I grieved for you, I grieved for dad, I’ve been kidnapped _twice_ , I’ve been shot, _Spencer’s_ been shot, and I had my fucking kids taken from me by my psycho father. You didn’t fucking protect me.”

Your brain had caught up.

She opens her mouth to speak, but you’re already halfway out the room before she even gets the words out. You angrily storm out of the bullpen, pushing open the glass doors. You stop right outside the doors, leaning against the wall right next to the elevator, your vision blurred by your tears. You start to slide down to the ground, but two strong arms catch you, pulling you into him.

You bury your face in Spencer’s neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you. One hand strokes your hair, the other in the middle of your back. He whispers small, sweet things in your ear, trying to get you to stop crying. You don’t know how many minutes pass until your body stops shaking, your breathing evening out. Spencer continues to stroke your hair, planting a small kiss on your forehead. You pull away, his hands moving to your face. He wipes away your tears, kissing both of your cheeks softly before pulling away, hazel eyes looking into yours.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Your voice is a whisper.

Spencer shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You were in shock.” 

You look up at your husband, leaning into his hand. “Do you really think she was trying to protect me? Or just trying to find the easy way out?”

Spencer bites his bottom lip, thinking. “She seems really genuine. I think she really thought she was protecting you.” He’s quiet for a moment, eyes searching yours. “I think…she was also trying to do what was best for her in that moment.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, a small sigh leaving you. Spencer rests his forehead on yours, gently pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, your hands wrapping around his arms, rubbing your thumb on the skin of his forearms. He pulls away after a moment, and you see the BAU doors open out of your peripheral.

You turn your head, Spencer dropping his hands, one of them finding yours. Hotch walks over to you, eyes flicking between you and Spencer. 

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks, his tone a little worried.

“I think so.”

“Sophia…was trying to explain everything to us after you left. I think your dad helped her fake her death for a reason—we think it’s so his boss wouldn’t kill her. Or you.”

“That’s a big assumption to make, Hotch,” Spencer says, scrunching his brows together. 

He shakes his head. “Sophia claims your dad mentioned something along the lines of ‘them’ threatening her and _you_.”

“The ominous them,” you murmur. Your mind flashes to the meeting you had with your dad—he said, ‘they’re listening’. Who the _fuck_ is them? Who are they?

“I don’t think we should look at this just skin deep,” Hotch explains. “We need to dig deeper. There’s something bigger going on here that we don’t even realize.”

You’re quiet for a moment before exhaling. “I know. It was just a lot.”

“I understand.” Hotch gives you a small smile. “Do you think you can come back in?”

You nod, squeezing Spencer’s hand. You two follow Hotch back into the bullpen, and you keep your hand in Spencer’s as you walk around the table. You don’t sit but stand instead. You look at your mom, biting the inside of your cheek.

“We need your help,” you finally say, keeping your voice even.

“With what?” She asks quietly.

“We’re trying to find a man named Samuel. We think he’s the one who continued hiring Joseph. We think he’s the one hiring him now.” 

Your mom is quiet for a moment before she nods. “Okay. I’ll help.”

You lock eyes with Hotch, nodding slightly. He leans forward, placing his hands flat on the table. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, now her mom is working with the BAU! Oh, man! That's crazy!  
> Thank you guys for all your sweet comments! I posted this on Wattpad, so I'll let you know this fic will have 20 chapters plus an epilogue! So we're approaching the climax QUICKLY. :)


	17. The Cognitive

“Where do we even start?” You ask, leaning against the table.

“Sophia, we need you to write down every person you remember Joseph being close to. Even if you just heard their name.” Hotch slides your mom a pen and a piece of paper.

“It wouldn’t be from the early days, either,” Morgan says. “It would be closer to when Y/n was in her early teens.”

“When you guys were living in Gatlinburg,” JJ says softly.

Sophia nods, staring down at the paper before pressing the pen to it. You stand up straighter, moving back beside Spencer. He wraps his arm around your waist, fingers rubbing small circles in the fabric. He’s warm, the fabric of his blue sweater soft against your arm. You lean into his touch, watching your mom scribble on the piece of paper.

A part of you still thinks this is a dream—you want to wake up at home in Spencer’s arms, Joseph climbing onto the bed to wake you two up. You want to shower in your own bathroom. You want to walk down the stairs, Rhiannon in your arms, smiling as you listen to Spencer putting Joseph into his clothes for the day. You want to feed your own kids and drink your own coffee. You want to watch movies with your family and listen to Spencer ramble off facts about them.

But that’s not reality anymore— _this_ is. 

Sophia sets the pen down, pushing the piece of paper forward silently. Hotch picks up the paper, glancing at you. You break away from Spencer’s touch, crossing over to Hotch, taking the paper from his hand.

“I’ll get these to Garcia,” you tell him, Hotch giving you a curt nod as you walk out of the roundtable room and toward Garcia’s cave.

Your heels clack on the tile of the floor, the sound muffled when the floor changes to carpet. The walk to Garcia’s cave is short, and you knock on the door as you walk in, Garcia swiveling around in her chair.

Her brows knit together; lips pointed down into a frown. “Honey, are you okay? I heard about what happened earlier.”

You slowly nod, leaning against her desk. “Believe it or not, today is _not_ one of the top five best days of my life, so. I’ve been better.”

“Aw, come here.”

She gets up, wrapping her arms around you. You smile softly as you hug her back, breathing in the scent of cherry candy and lavender—a weird smell, but not unpleasant. A hug from Garcia always seems to make you feel better—her touch is like magic. She pulls away after a moment, sitting back in her chair. You give a small smile, averting your gaze.

“I just wish…I wish everything was normal again. I feel like I’m living in like, my own personal hell right now. I know it’s _not_ hell because Spencer’s also here, but I just…I want how it used to be.” Your voice is quiet, and you look back up at Garcia, her eyes full of concern.

“Sweetie…” She reaches over, grabbing one of your hands with hers. “I know it sounds cliché and stupid, but everything happens for a reason. But you’ll come out of this _stronger_. I know you will. You and Spencer both.”

You squeeze her hand. “Thanks, Garcia. I love you, you know?”

“I love you, too, sweetcheeks.” She grins up at you. “Whatcha got for me?”

You hand her the piece of paper, her eyes grazing over it. “It’s a list of names my dad knew, according to my mom. We just need you to do a run on all of them. Some of the names might be fake, but—”

“I can try to dig deeper if they’re fake.” Garcia winks at you. “Don’t underestimate my genius.”

You laugh softly. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

“Stop, you flatter me.” She swivels around in her chair. “I’ll let you guys know what I find.”

“Thanks, PG.”

You turn and walk out of her cave, heading back to the roundtable room. The team is talking with Sophia, and you push open the door, casually walking over to Spencer. He smiles softly at you, giving you a kiss on your temple. You grin at him before looking at Hotch.

“Garcia’s doing backgrounds on names. If any of them are fake, she’s gonna dig until she finds a real name.”

Hotch nods. “Good.”

“What were you guys talking about?” You ask, glancing over at Sophia. 

“We were just asking her questions about her life in Gatlinburg,” Rossi says, leaning back in his chair. “Who she talked to, what social circles she ran in, if she remembers anyone hanging around the house, even if they didn’t go inside.”

“Did Joseph ever have any meetings at your house? Or anyone who showed up unexpectedly?” Prentiss asks, folding her hands in front of her.

Sophia’s brows scrunch together, and she looks down at the table, thinking. After a moment, she looks up, eyes landing on Hotch. 

“What is it?” He asks, his eyebrows knit together.

“There was one time…I, uh, walked in on him and a guy. They were talking. I don’t remember what they were talking about, but Joseph got kind of angry that I had walked in without knocking.” Sophia turns her head, looking at you. 

You meet her eyes before looking at Hotch. “We should give her a cognitive. It’s the best way for her to try to remember.”

Hotch nods, his eyes flicking to JJ. “JJ, let’s do it in an interrogation room. Can you show Sophia the way there?”

JJ nods, standing up, looking at Sophia. “Come with me.”

Sophia looks at you before looking at JJ, standing up and following her out of the room. You let out a sigh, eyes fixed on the wood grain of the table. 

“I don’t want you in the cognitive,” Hotch states, his voice laced with a bit of hesitancy. 

“I figured as much,” you reply, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I could do it,” Prentiss says, standing up. “Hotch and I could.”

You nod, stepping forward to place your hands on the table. “We’ll watch from outside. She _has_ to know something.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hotch says, his intense gaze settling on you. “We know where that will get us. Nowhere.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head. “I know.”

“We’ll start in five minutes.”

Hotch and Prentiss leave the room, and Rossi and Morgan stand. You and Spencer cross to the other side of the table, Morgan giving you a small smile.

“You okay, kid?” 

Rossi hits Derek’s arm as he walks by. “I feel like the answer to that question is glaringly obvious.”

You laugh softly, walking out of the roundtable room. “I’m…uh, I’m just a little confused. I want answers. And to punch my dad in the face.”

Morgan laughs, and Spencer laces his fingers in yours. The four of you walk to the interrogation room, and your eyes land on your mom on the other side of the one-way glass. Spencer squeezes your hand, and you inhale deeply, looking at Hotch.

He crosses the short distance to you. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if nothing comes of this. It’s an old memory.”

“I’ll be fine, Hotch,” you say, looking up at him. 

He nods at you, lifting his hand to squeeze your shoulder before turning around. He and Prentiss walk into the interrogation room, Sophia’s eyes flicking to them. Hotch and Prentiss take a seat, and you take a few steps forward, tilting your head as you look through the glass.

“Alright, Sophia. So first, I want you to close your eyes. Bring yourself back to that day. What do you see? What do you smell? Use all of your senses.”

Sophia closes her eyes, taking a few moments before she opens her mouth. “Its…light outside. I’m baking something—sugar cookies, I think. The air smells sweet. Y/n is on the couch. She’s…reading, I think.”

A pang of hurt runs through your chest, your grip on Spencer’s hand tightening. You swallow the lump in your throat, and Spencer’s hand leaves yours, moving inside to wrap around you, pulling him closer to you. He rubs your side slowly, trying to keep you calm. Safe. 

“Okay, what happens next?” Prentiss asks softly.

Sophia’s brows scrunch together, like she’s trying really hard to remember. “I want to know what Joseph wants for dinner.”

“So you try to find him?”

She nods. “Yes. We had an office downstairs; Joseph sometimes used it as a makeshift room where he could be alone.”

“I remember that room,” you whisper to Spencer. “He usually just drank a couple beers and watched sappy TV shows. He thought we didn’t know about the TV shows, but we knew everything.” The slight smile that had started to form of your face waivers. “Almost everything.”

Hotch leans forward in his seat. “What do you see when you walk into the office?”

“The blinds are shut,” Sophia says, her hands moving to grip the edge of the table. “I see…a man with Joseph.”

“Try to think about what he looks like,” Prentiss says. “Does he have any distinguishable features? Tattoos? Scars?”

Sophia shakes her head. “He’s _younger_ than him. His hair is…golden, almost.”

“What is he wearing?”

You can visibly see your mom sweating, and you rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder, his hand squeezing your waist softly. 

“A suit, I think. A nice suit.”

Prentiss nods. “Okay, do you hear them saying anything?”

Sophia’s brows stay scrunched, and she shakes her head. “N-No. Joseph sees me immediately, and he and the man stop talking.” She swallows. “Joseph’s mad—he asks me what I’m doing.” She bites her bottom lip nervously. “I just ask what he wants for dinner, and I don’t even think he thinks before he says something random. He starts to close the door.” Her lips stay parted after she’s done talking.

“Is there anything else? Does he say anything as he’s shutting the door?”

Sophia’s eyes squeeze shut tighter. “He says, um… ‘I’m sorry about that, Thompson’. It’s so quiet…I barely hear it.”

Hotch turns his head, looking back at you. Thompson. You turn your head, looking up at Spencer. His brows are knit, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. You look back into the interrogation room, your mom’s eyes now open. 

“You did a great job, Sophia. Thank you. JJ will take you back to the roundtable room.”

Hotch and Prentiss stand, Sophia following them out of the interrogation room. She looks at you as she passes, her eyes sad. A weird mixture of sadness, hurt, and anger swirl around in your chest, and you avert your gaze, staring down at the concrete floor. You hear her and JJ leave, and you look back up at the team.

“Thompson. That could be Samuel’s last name,” you say, your voice hopeful.

“It’s a possibility,” Hotch says. “We need to check in on Garcia. Reid, Y/n, come with me.”

You nod, following Hotch out of the interrogation room. Spencer’s hand rests on your lower back as you follow Hotch to Garcia’s cave. Upon entering, Garcia swivels around in her chair, holding one of her pink, fuzzy pens.

“Hello, gorgeous humans,” she says, looking up at the three of you.

“Have you made any progress on the names?” Hotch asks, his voice quiet.

Garcia nods. “Surprisingly, only one of them was fake—a Mr. Chester Harris. I’ve been digging now to try to uncover his real name; I’m just waiting on a search result.”

“Can you run a name for me? Samuel Thompson. He probably would’ve lived within a hundred miles of Gatlinburg. With what he’s probably involved in, he doesn’t have a criminal record. He’d want to stay as far away from the law as possible.”

Garcia nods, typing at her computer, eyes scanning the screen. “Samuel Thompson, forty-two. Lived in Tennessee for a while before he moved closer to Virginia in the early-two thousands. Wow.” Garcia’s eyes widen. “He’s loaded. Apparently, his parents were rich, and he got all the money when he died.”

“Where is he located now?”

“Looks like Roanoke, Virginia.” Her computer dings, and her eyes scan across the result, a soft gasp leaving her. “Chester Harris is Samuel Thompson.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. _We got the name_.

“Garcia, I want everything on this guy. I mean _everything_. I want his full history, phone logs, emails—whatever you need to find out where he is right now.”

Garcia nods, typing frantically at her computer. “Give me a few. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Hotch nods. “Thank you.”

The three of you walk back into the bullpen, and you pull Spencer to the kitchen, grabbing a cup. You pour yourself a cup of coffee before pouring Spencer some, making it just the way he likes. You hand him the cup and he kisses your forehead before taking a sip of his coffee. Gripping the cup, you walk back into the roundtable room, sitting next to Morgan. Spencer stands behind your chair, one of his hands gripping the top of it.

The roundtable room is eerily silent, and Hotch looks at the team. You avoid your mother’s gaze, looking at Hotch instead.

“Garcia’s doing a full workup on Samuel Thompson. The faster we know where he is, the faster we can get to him.”

“So Samuel is…a hitman, too?” Sophia asks quietly.

Morgan shakes his head. “Not quite. He could just be the person who hired Joseph.”

“He might be blackmailing Joseph,” JJ says. “From what we heard at the meeting, he couldn’t say very much about his past because of the mysterious ‘they’.”

“What if ‘they’ isn’t a multiple?” You ask, sipping your coffee. “It could just be one person.”

Hotch nods. “It’s a possibility.”

It’s about half an hour until Garcia speedily walks into the roundtable room, turning the monitor on. A picture of Samuel Thompson pops up—golden hair, blue eyes, a cocky smile on his face.

“This is Samuel Thompson—and boy oh boy, has he lived a mysterious life. Digging stuff up on him was irritating.” Garcia exhales heavily, looking at you guys. “But I ended up finding out that his parents died when he was in his early twenties—died is a nice word to put it.”

“Murdered?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yep.” Garcia pops the ‘p’, nodding. “And Sammy boy got all of the inheritance money, which was _a lot_. He’s had a clean run with the law.”

“Did you look into his—”

“Into his emails, texts, stuff like that? Yes, I did.” Garcia cuts Hotch off. “Most of his stuff is pretty basic, but I stumbled upon a few emails sent to another email I couldn’t seem to trace. Which is _super_ frustrating, by the way.” She says the last sentence under her breath, and you can’t help but smile. “It’s recent. It was sent a few days ago.”

“What did the email say?” Rossi asks.

“It was a scanned document of a note.”

Spencer moves around the roundtable to the screen, squinting his eyes. “It’s in the same code as the other letters. I think he scanned it so it wasn’t as easy to distinguish the bolded and plain letters.”

“Can you decode it?” Hotch asks.

“Gimme a pen and paper.”

Prentiss hands him a notepad and a pen. Spencer looks at the monitor again before scribbling away on the notepad. After a few minutes, he turns to the team, reading.

“’We need to meet in person. Meet me at the storage units in Roanoke. Number two-seventy-nine. This Thursday.’”

“I’m presuming he’s talking to Joseph,” you mutter.

“Thursday’s two days away,” Hotch says. “We leave for Roanoke tomorrow afternoon. We’ll gear up at the hotel and make a plan.”

You stand up, your heart racing, leaning your palms on the table. “I’ve been ready. Let’s crash his little party.” 

“Everyone get some sleep.” Hotch looks directly at you. “The next two days are crucial. We’ll meet here tomorrow morning before we leave.”

You can feel the nerves racing through your body already, and you close your eyes for a brief second. It’s happening—the final confrontation. 

And you feel more than ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh, ya'll, we're gearing up now. I'm just letting y'all know that the next chapter is gonna be super emotional (no one dies, I promise), but it's a very emotional chapter for both Spencer and Y/n.  
> :) I love y'all.


	18. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of dying

“Mama, where are you and daddy going?” 

You run your fingers through your son’s curls, giving him a soft smile. “Daddy and I are taking a trip with the team.”

Spencer kneels down next to you, smiling at his son. “You’re gonna stay here with Jessica, okay? And watch over your little sister.”

Joseph nods, grinning at you and Spencer. “Okay, daddy.”

You cup your son’s face. “I love you _so_ much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, mama.”

He walks into your arms, wrapping his little arms around your neck. You close your eyes as you hug your son, rubbing your hand up and down his back. Your lower lip trembles, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you release him. Spencer picks him up, squeezing him tightly, locking eyes with you. You can see the pain run through them—pain because neither of you know if this is goodbye or not.

_Neither of you know if you’ll come out of this alive_.

Spencer sets Joseph down, kissing his forehead. “I love you, big man.”

“I love you, too, daddy!”

Spencer ruffles his hair as he runs back to play with Jack. You lace your fingers with Spencer before walking over to Jessica, holding Rhiannon on the couch. You take your daughter from her, giving Jessica a small smile.

You look down at Rhiannon, her big, hazel eyes looking up at you. Her tiny hand rests on your cheek, and you smile, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. 

“I love you, sweet girl,” you murmur, running your hand through her hair. 

She smiles up at you, patting your cheek with her hand, almost like she’s trying to comfort you. You hug her, pulling her fully against your chest for a moment before handing her to Spencer. She squeezes his cheeks together, and Spencer laughs, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“I love you, pumpkin,” he whispers to her, putting his hand over hers. He hugs her, closing his eyes for a moment before handing her back to Jessica. 

“Thanks, Jessica,” you say softly, giving her a small smile.

She nods, trying to smile, but you see worry etched on her face. “Good luck.”

You grab Spencer’s hand, leading him out of Hotch’s house, shutting the door behind you. You’re quiet, and Spencer stops you, pulling you to him. You bury your face in his chest, the lump in your throat making it almost hard to fucking breathe. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, his around your shoulders, hands rubbing along the top of your back slowly. 

“We’ll see them again, baby,” he whispers, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “We don’t know that, Spence. This is a dangerous situation we’re going into.”

He pulls away slightly, looking down at you. “I know. But we’ll get through it. We always do. Together.”

You give him a soft smile and he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is sweet and soft, and after a moment, you two pull away. Spencer moves his hand to rest on your cheek, his hazel eyes searching yours.

“Come on, sweetheart. They’re probably waiting for us.”

You two climb into the car, Spencer driving quickly to the BAU. His hand rests on your thigh, and you lean your head against the headrest, watching the trees whizz past your window, everything a blur. Spencer’s thumb rubs small circles into your thigh, the only sounds in the car coming from the radio, the volume low. Spencer parks the car, and you two get out, walking hand in hand with your go bags into Headquarters.

The team is waiting in the roundtable room, your mom seated with them. She looks at you, and you lock eyes with her for a moment, a thousand different emotions seeming to run through you at once. You don’t’ sit, just plop your go bag on the ground, glancing at the team.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” you say, offering them small smiles.

“It’s okay,” Hotch says, crossing his arms in front of him. “We were just going over the plan for today.”

“JJ’s decided to stay here with Sophia,” Morgan explains, nodding at JJ. “Garcia’s coming with us, and she’s going to be set up at the hotel.”

“The hotel is a few miles away from the storage units.” Rossi clears his throat. “Roanoke PD are setting up some hidden surveillance cameras near the storage units so we’ll know when Samuel and Joseph arrive.”

“Garcia can monitor them from the hotel,” Prentiss says, looking at you. “They’re not meeting until tomorrow, so today we’re going to stay at the hotel and formulate a plan for the raid.”

You nod. “Do you think it’ll just be Samuel and Joseph? Or do you think there will be more people involved?”

Spencer shakes his head. “From what we’ve seen in the letters and how Samuel and Joseph act, I think they’re meeting alone.”

“What if it’s a trap?” 

Your question makes Hotch’s brow furrow. “What do you mean?”

“What if Samuel wants us to find them? What if we’re just playing into his hands?”

“We’ll come prepared. Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh, nodding slowly. “Okay. When do we leave?”

“Now.”

You stand up, locking eyes with your mother again. Turning to Spencer, you give him a soft kiss on his cheek, the stubble softly scratching your face. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He nods, smiling softly at you before taking your go bag with him as he leaves the room. You glance at Hotch and he nods, shutting the door behind him when he leaves. You look back at your mom, the silence in the empty room practically deafening.

“I’m sorry I left you,” she whispers. “I did it…I really did think I was protecting you. And I’m sorry you went through all of that alone. I really am.”

“I didn’t go through _all_ of it alone,” you whisper back. “I had dad. And now, I have Spencer.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “That man is so in love with you.”

“I know.” You return her small smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“When did you start keeping tabs on me?”

Your mother is quiet for a moment. “After your eighteenth birthday. It wasn’t a regular thing—I’d check in and see if you were still doing okay maybe once a year. I just…needed to know you were alright.”

You slowly nod, looking back up into your mom’s eyes. “I missed you, mom.”

She walks around the table, stopping a few feet away from you. “Little dove…”

You close the distance between you two, stepping into her arms. You wrap your arms around your mother, something you thought you’d never be able to do again after her funeral. You close your eyes, breathing in her scent, the one you’d memorized when you were little. She strokes your hair slowly, and you pull away, biting your tongue to hold back tears.

“I _never_ stopped loving you, little dove,” she whispers. “Not once.”

“I love you, too, mom.” Your voice is quiet, and you inhale deeply. “I have to go.”

“Go,” she whispers. “Oh, and if your father tries to explain himself, listen to him. Do what I wasn’t able to do. Listen.”

You nod, giving her one last smile before walking out of the roundtable room. You smile at JJ as you pass before heading out to the jet. Nerves run through you, something you couldn’t seem to shake since yesterday. You climb up the steps of the jet, settling in beside Spencer. He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, the jet finally ascending.

The flight to Roanoke is practically nothing, and the seven of you pile out of the jet when it touches down, splitting yourselves into two SUVs. You, Spencer, Garcia, and Morgan go in one; Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss in the other. You sit in the back with Spencer, reaching out to take hand. He squeezes it before bringing it to his lips, kissing your fingertips softly. You let out a soft laugh, letting your entwined hands rest in his lap. 

The hotel is nice—and Hotch herds you to a room toward the back of the lobby. It’s already set up for all of you, and you take a seat at the wooden table, swiveling your chair around to face Hotch. Spencer sits next to you, the team scattered around the room. 

“We need to discuss how we’re going to approach the raid tomorrow,” Hotch says, looking at everyone in the room.

“Local PD will be with us, right?” Morgan asks, leaning back in his chair.

Hotch nods. “Yes.”

“I see no point in waiting around,” you say, tapping your fingers on the table. “I think when we see that they’re at the storage unit, we pull up, and we barge in. It’ll catch them off guard.”

“Or they could start shooting at us,” Hotch fires back. “We need to consider all possibilities.”

“What else are we gonna do? Knock on the fucking door? ‘Hi, it’s the FBI, please open up!’” Hotch gives you a warning glance, but you couldn’t care less at this point. “That’s not going to do anything.”

“I kinda agree with Y/n,” Prentiss says. “The element of surprise is a strong tool.”

“I can monitor them with the video feed,” Garcia says, looking up at Hotch. “It has sound, too, so we’ll be able to hear what’s being said.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment. “Fine. We’ll go with Y/n’s plan, _unless_ a safer option presents itself.”

You nod. “Thank you.”

“Next: our primary goal is to arrest both of them unless the situation escalates.”

“Understood,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll meet back here. Garcia’s going to get set up tonight. As soon as they’re both at the location, we leave. There will be a van that meets us there that’s getting the same footage Garcia is getting. We’ll all be wired.” Hotch looks at each member of the team. “First and foremost, safety is a priority. I don’t want any of you getting hurt. If the situation escalates out of our control, we leave _immediately_. That’s not up for debate.”

“Yes, sir,” the team says all at once.

Hotch nods. “Take the rest of the day to rest up. Everyone’s going to need their strength tomorrow.”

You nod, grabbing your go bag and standing up. Hotch slips you and Spencer your room key, and the two of you pile into the elevator with the rest of the team. Your room is on the fourth floor, 416. Spencer rests his hand on your back as you stop in front of the door, sliding the keycard in. It flashes green, and you open the door, stepping inside the room.

You set your go bag down, slipping off your shoes before collapsing onto the bed, closing your eyes. You feel the bed dip next to you as Spencer sits on it. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you open your eyes, looking up at him. His hair is hanging in his face, a small smile on his lips.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he replies, his smile widening.

You two stay like that for a moment, Spencer’s fingers softly running through your hair. He gazes down at you, and you can practically feel the love radiating off of him. After a few minutes, you prop yourself up on your elbows, searching Spencer’s face. He bends over slightly, letting his lips press softly against yours.

One of your hands goes to his hair, pushing it back and twisting your fingers in it. Spencer deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, as he pushes you back down onto your back. His thumb brushes your cheek softly as he shifts, moving to settle in between your legs. You pull him closer to you, your lips moving faster as you tug on his hair, earning a small groan from Spencer.

His hand moves from your face, trailing down your side until he gets to the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head, reconnecting his lips with yours as you start to unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. He throws the shirt onto the floor, and you run your hands down his chest, digging your nails in slightly. His moan is stifled by your mouth, and you run your hands to his neck, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of it.

Your back arches as Spencer reaches for the clasp of your bra, and he unhooks it, pulling it off of you. He breaks the kiss, and you pant slightly as he runs his lips down your neck, kissing your skin softly. His eyes flick up to yours as his lips trail to your right nipple. He takes it in his mouth, tongue swirling around it slowly. You groan softly, arching your back, your grip tightening in his hair.

He flicks his tongue over your sensitive nipple, his right hand squeezing your left breast before rolling the nipple between his fingers. You let out another soft moan, Spencer’s eyes never leaving your face. He eventually switches sides, wrapping his lips around your right nipple, his fingers playing with your other one. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, jolting slightly as he pulls on your nipple with his teeth.

He chuckles, planting small kisses on your chest, down to your stomach. He unbuttons your pants, pulling them off of you in one quick motion. He spreads your legs, eyes flicking back up to yours as he slowly runs his finger up your covered slit.

“So wet for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thighs.

You whimper in response, and Spencer hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly. He kisses up your inner thighs, your hand guiding him to your pussy. He grins before licking up your slit, swirling his tongue around your clit. You groan, Spencer trailing his fingers to your wet entrance, pushing his middle and ring fingers inside.

You lean your head back, letting out small moans as Spencer flicks his tongue over your clit rapidly, his fingers curling up to press against your g-spot. His other hand moves to your nipples, twisting and pulling them. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as he adds a third finger, sucking harshly at your clit.

“F-Fuck, Spence, _yes_ ,” you whine, feeling the knot tighten in your lower stomach.

Your words push him to finger fuck you faster, pressing against your g-spot every time. You grind against his face, his tongue somehow swirling around your clit faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you quickly. He pinches your right nipple, and a breathy moan leaves you.

Your orgasm hits you hard, you pussy throbbing around his fingers, your breath coming in pants. Your legs shake slightly, and Spencer finger fucks you through your orgasm, pulling his mouth away from your clit. His eyes meet yours and he slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, his tongue trailing down to push into it slowly. You whine softly, and he licks up your slit, cleaning you up. He kisses up your body until he gets to your mouth, and he runs his three fingers on your bottom lip before pushing them in your mouth. You suck on them, eyes never leaving his as you swirl your tongue over his fingers. 

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth before kissing you again, gripping your jaw with his fingers. After a minute, he pulls away, smiling at you as he stands up to take off his pants and boxer briefs. You adjust your position, getting on your knees and bending over, arching your back as you lay your cheek on the comforter of the bed, legs spread. You hear Spencer groan softly as he takes you in, his hand trailing down your back to your ass. 

He gives your ass a small slap, and you feel him run the tip of his dick up and down your dripping slit. “You’re so beautiful…just for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Spence,” you breathe out. “Just for you.”

“Good girl.”

He pushes into you slowly, and you groan as he stretches you out, bottoming out inside of you. He gives a breathy moan, gripping your hips tightly as he pulls out, fucking you slowly at first, but increasing his pace with every thrust. His hand trails up your back to your hair, gripping it and pulling, a small whine leaving you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, adjusting his position so he can hit your g-spot with each thrust.

You let out a breathy whimper in response, clenching around his dick. He fills you up so fucking _good_ , and you push your ass back every time he thrusts in, pushing him in deeper.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he moans out, his breathing staggered.

He starts to fuck you faster, earning a string of moans from you, his hand leaving your hair and traveling to your neck. He pulls you up, your back against his chest, his hand still at your throat. His other hand trails to your clit, rubbing it in figure eights as he continues fucking you. You rest the back of your head on his shoulder, and he looks into your eyes, his lips connecting with your neck. 

He applies more pressure to your clit, and you feel your second orgasm quickly approaching, clenching around his dick again. Spencer moans in your ear, his fingers working your clit faster. You pant softly, and Spencer’s teeth graze your earlobe softly.

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, his teeth nipping softly at your neck.

“Go ahead, baby; let me feel you.”

His name slips past your lips repeatedly as your second orgasm hits you, your pussy throbbing around his dick, coaxing Spencer’s own orgasm out of him. His fingers leave your clit, trailing up to your throat again, and you hear his staggered breath in your ear. After a few more thrusts, he buries himself inside of you, his dick throbbing as he shoots his load into your pussy.

You two stay like that for a moment, and Spencer wraps his arms around you, kissing up your neck and across your jaw until he gets to your lips. You smile into the kiss, your lips moving against his slowly. After a few minutes, you two pull apart, and Spencer pulls out of you, helping you stand up.

You pull him into the bathroom, and you pee while he starts the shower. You wash your hands before Spencer pulls you into the shower with him. You two take your time, Spencer littering you with kisses as he helps you wash your hair and your body, you doing the same for him. You two stay in the shower for probably longer than necessary, but you get out eventually, drying yourself off and moisturizing before changing into a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt. You run a brush through your hair, grinning as you brush Spencer’s hair. 

You two settle on the bed, lying on your sides, just looking at each other. There’s an unspoken feeling in the air—one that neither one of you wants to acknowledge. Spencer reaches over, resting his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing against your cheek lightly.

“Y/n…” He whispers, his hazel eyes searching yours. “If anything happens to me tomorrow—”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, Spence,” you whisper back, your voice thick because of the lump in your throat.

“If anything happens to me,” he continues, “please just know that I love you, okay? I love you and the kids so much.”

“Spence—”

“And if I die,” he interrupts, “I need you to know that I’m going to die happy. Because of you. Because you love me. Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, okay?”

Your lower lip trembles, and you shift closer to him. “If I die, please know that meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. _You’re_ the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, besides the kids.” Spencer laughs, his own tears falling down his cheeks. You wipe them with your thumb, cradling his face in your hands. “I love you so much, Spencer. You’re the love of my life. As long as I have you, I’m not afraid to die, okay? I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Spencer whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“But we aren’t going to die,” you whisper. “We have too much to live for.”

Spencer slowly nods before pressing his lips to yours. He holds your face, and you kiss him back. You pull away after a moment, burying your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you two hold each other. That’s how you fall asleep, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

**

“What time is it?”

You glance at the clock. “Just after eight-thirty.”

“We should’ve guessed they were meeting late.”

You stand up, glancing at Garcia’s screen. “Anything?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Sighing, you walk over to Hotch. “I would’ve thought they’d be there by now.”

“Be patient. He might operate in the dark.”

You groan, moving to sit beside Spencer. The seven of you have been cramped in this little room all day, waiting for Samuel and Joseph to meet. You tap your fingers against the wood of the table, and Spencer reaches over, lacing his fingers in yours. You smile at him, your leg shaking slightly. 

“Calm down, Y/n,” Prentiss says softly. “I promise, it’ll happen. They’ll meet.”

You nod at her, squeezing Spencer’s hand. The minutes pass by, and all you can do is sit and dwell in your own thoughts, your mind going five million miles a minute. After about thirty more minutes, Garcia gasps.

“They’re at the storage unit!”

You and Spencer immediately stand, looking at Hotch. He nods.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT FOLKS, ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS! AHHHHHHHHHHH.  
> Also, this chapter was super emotional for Spencer and Y/n. It made me CRY writing it tbh.  
> I love all of you! :)


	19. Final Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: death, blood  
> (but trust me y'all)

You strap on your vest next to the SUV, Spencer doing the same right next to you. You lock eyes with him, giving him a small smile which he returns. You test your wire, making sure everyone could hear you before opening the SUV door, climbing into the backseat. Spencer gets in on the other side, Morgan and Rossi in the front. Your heart feels like its beating out of your own fucking chest, and you grab Spencer’s hand to try to calm your jittery nerves. He squeezes softly, and you lock eyes with him. 

The storage unit is only a few miles away, so it only takes a few minutes to get to it, the entire drive silent. You inhale deeply as Morgan pulls into the storage unit area; two cars parked close to the units. A chill runs through you, and you exhale slowly as Morgan comes to a stop. You release Spencer’s hand, getting out of the SUV, immediately taking your gun out of the holster. 

The four of you approach Hotch, and he looks at you.

“Are you ready?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

The six of you walk through the units until you get to unit 279. Everyone’s quiet, the only sound coming from the gravel underneath your shoes. You approach the door but stop dead in your tracks when you look at it.

There’s a note.

_Send Y/n in. She can have her gun. It’s time the three of us have a nice conversation_. 

You rip the note off the door, turning to Hotch. “They knew we were coming.”

Hotch’s brow furrows. “How?”

“Maybe we were meant to find the email all along,” Prentiss says, glancing between you and Hotch. 

“It was a setup from the start.” Morgan sighs, lowering his gun.

“I can go in there,” you say, looking up at Hotch.

“No, not alone.”

“Hotch, I’m armed. I have my vest. I’m wired. First sign of trouble, you guys come inside.”

Hotch hesitates a moment, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Positive.”

“Fine. But I swear to _God_ , if I think the situation is going to escalate, we’re coming in.”

“Understood.” You turn to Spencer, and he holsters his gun, resting his hand on your cheek. You smile up at him. “I love you.”

He shakes his head. “This isn’t goodbye, sweetheart.”

“Spencer, please say it back,” you whisper, looking into his hazel eyes.

He looks like he’s fighting back tears, but he rests his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

You close your eyes for a moment, leaning in to press his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, and after a few moments, you pull away. He kisses your forehead before releasing your face. You inhale deeply before looking at the team.

“I’ll see you guys soon.”

You put your hand on the door handle and twist before pushing it open, greeted by stale air and the overhead fluorescents of the storage container. You step inside, closing the door behind you, your gun still drawn, eyes grazing around the room. With every step, you feel your nerves growing, afraid your fucking heart was going to break your ribs with how fast it’s beating.

Your eyes land on two figures in the room, both of them turning to look at you. The one on the left—Samuel, presumably—looks right at you, a weirdly smug look on his face. He runs a hand through his blonde hair before he straightens the suit he’s wearing. A gun is strapped to his hip. He seems calm—collected. Your eyes flick to your dad, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

He wasn’t expecting you to be here.

Samuel gives a soft laugh, holding his hands up. “Relax, Y/n. Put the gun away. I just wanted all of us to chat.”

“Is it only you two in here? Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes, it’s just us.”

You don’t fully trust him, obviously, but you holster your gun, eyes flicking from your dad to Samuel. 

Joseph turns to look at Samuel. “Why is she here? You didn’t tell me she’d be here.” You’ve never heard your dad’s voice sound so…panicked. 

“She wanted answers about you, Joseph.” Samuel’s voice carries a pleasant tone, but his eyes suggest he’s _not_ a pleasant person. His eyes are cold and calculating. He puts his hand behind his back, beginning to pace in a circle around your dad. “And I’m getting very tired of you fucking up. So why don’t you just go ahead and tell her what got you into this mess in the first place, hm?”

“I don’t understand,” you say, looking at Samuel. “Why are you letting him me now?”

“Because your father here,” Samuel starts, “is on thin ice.” He laughs, though no humor lies in the sound. “He just keeps fucking up. I figured before I kill him that he…airs his dirty laundry. Gives you the whole story.”

Your dad’s eyes flick to yours, and you see one emotion in them: fear. Samuel continues pacing until he stands behind Joseph, off to the side. Joseph swallows, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Get to it, Joseph. I’m an impatient man. You know that.”

Your dad clears his throat, averting his gaze for a moment. “I…I began contracted killing in the late eighties. I’m sure you and your team have figured that out by now.” He plays with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. “I was good—very good.” He doesn’t sound proud—shame lines his voice. “Snake—aka Samuel—kept me on jobs. They were never too far away from South Carolina. Your mom and I didn’t live in Blythewood until right before you were born. If they were, I’d tell your mom I was travelling for work, going to conferences every now and then, and she never questioned it.”

“It was before I was born.” 

Your dad’s eyes flick up to yours again. “Yes.” He hesitates a moment. “But your mom got pregnant with you.”

“And why was that a problem?” You ask, furrowing your brow. 

“It was a problem,” Samuel says, icy eyes on your face, “because right after he found out, I hired him again.”

You look at your dad, shifting your weight to your other foot. “This one was different. Why?”

“The woman was…pregnant.”

“You wanted to kill a pregnant woman?” You ask, looking at Samuel, disgust lacing your voice. “How fucking twisted are you?”

Samuel flares his nostrils. “Someone paid me to get the job done.”

“Oh, what? So you didn’t have a choice?” You ask sarcastically.

“No,” Samuel shoots back. “Because I value my life, unlike your father here.”

Joseph exhales slowly. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make the kill.”

“Because of mom,” you whisper, slowly nodding when you realize.

“I…messed up when I didn’t make the kill. I missed on purpose,” your dad explains. “And I decided I wanted out of contracted killing.”

“But you see…” Samuel says, taking a few steps forward. “He was in too deep. And he had crossed me. And I _hate_ when people disobey direct orders. So I offered your dad a deal.”

“A deal?” You ask, eyes flicking from Samuel to your dad, whose eyes were downcast.

“I offered him a choice.” Samuel tilts his head. “Either kill the girl…or don’t. But he owed me a debt. And when the time came, I was going to collect it.”

Your brain is going a thousand miles a minute trying put the puzzle pieces together. Joseph looks at you, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time since your breakfast at the Maple, you see love in his eyes. And pain. He’s _hurting_.

And then it hits you.

You gasp, looking over at Samuel, his icy eyes still on your face. “He’s doing this because of _you_. He didn’t…he didn’t want to do any of it. But you made him.” Your voice trembles slightly, and you feel the prick of tears in your eyes. You don’t want to cry—you _can’t_ be weak. Not now.

Samuel chuckles. “Your daughter is very smart, Joseph. Lives up to her reputation.”

“Don’t talk about her,” your dad hisses, the tiniest bit of anger laced in his voice. 

“Dad…” He turns to look at you, and you can see tears welling in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve… _we_ could’ve helped you. All of us.”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t that simple, little dove. He didn’t threaten me. He…threatened to hurt you. Not just you, either.”

He means Spencer. And your kids. The team. Jamie. Your lower lip trembles, and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to keep the world from fucking spinning around you. 

Your dad isn’t the bad guy. He _never_ was. He was forced to do everything—and your stomach churns at the thought. You look at Samuel, the smug smile on his face stirring a muted anger in your chest. He’s the reason this happened. _He’s_ the reason all of this fucked up shit had happened to you and your family. He was the first domino. 

“Everything I did, I did to _protect_ you, little dove.” Joseph’s voice cracks, and you feel a sob catch in your throat. “I swear. I swear on my life.” He takes a step toward you, and you see tears running down his cheeks. “I love you _so_ much. I never meant to hurt you or Spencer.”

“Dad…” You take a step toward him, and he reaches out his hand, brushing your cheek softly. “I love you, too. I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“You still can’t help me, little dove,” he whispers, his hand moving from your face to your hand, gripping it tightly.

“Aw, this is so sweet.” Samuel’s voice rings out, dry and humorless, from beside you. 

You whip your head toward him, immediately dropping your dad’s hand. You bite the inside of your cheek, taking a step back. 

“Please let him go,” you whisper, your voice pleading. “ _Please_. Hasn’t he done enough for you? He’s my…he’s my _dad_. Please.”

Samuel tilts his hand to the side, looking at you, silent. After a minute, he clicks his tongue, his hands moving to the gun on his belt. You immediately take your gun out of the holster, eyes flicking from Samuel to your dad.

“That’s very sweet,” Samuel replies, his voice cold and curt. “It’s a shame that I don’t care.”

You almost don’t register the gunshot. 

You’ve read about rage—it’s not something you’ve ever felt before. You haven’t had a reason to feel it. Even now, there’s a split second of calm before it hits you—the rage courses through your veins, your blood feeling like it’s on _fire_. You don’t register the blood on your face, but the only thing you can hear is your dad’s body dropping to the floor and the blood rushing in your ears. It takes you another half a second to shoot Samuel twice, once in the stomach, once in the arm. He drops to the ground with a thud, the gun falling out of his hands and sliding a few feet away. 

You drop your gun, but you don’t even hear it hit the ground. Samuel clutches his stomach, and in that moment, you let the rage and the grief consume you at once. You walk over to him, watching his feeble attempt to try to sit up on his elbows. Your foot connects with his face, and you watch the blood spurt out of his nose, the back of his head hitting the concrete floor of the storage unit.

You don’t even feel the ground on your knees as you sink to the ground, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your left hand. His icy eyes land on your face, a sick smile forming on his, his teeth stained red. You let out a scream as you punch him, barely even feeling the impact of his face on your knuckles. You feel the tears running down your face, falling down to land on Samuel’s, but your whole body feels numb.

So you land another punch on his face.

And another.

And another.

And another.

You stiffen when you feel a pair of hands settle under your arms, dragging you backward off of Samuel’s still body. You fight them, struggling with the strong grip, a guttural scream ripping from the back of your throat. 

“Let me _go_!” You cry out, your voice almost unrecognizable to yourself. “Let me _go_!”

“Hey, hey, sh. Y/n, it’s me! It’s Spencer.”

Your body still fights his grip, a sob wracking your body. “N-No, he needs to p-pay for what he did!”

“He’s _dead_ , sweetheart. He’s dead!”

Slowly, very slowly, Spencer’s words register in your ear, and your body slowly stops fighting him. He turns you around, both of you on your knees, his hazel eyes looking into yours. He wipes some of the blood away that’s slowly running down your face. You don’t even realize you’re shaking until a few seconds later, your brain finally catching up with the events that had just occurred. You turn your head away from Spencer, eyes landing on your dad’s body a few feet away from you. 

A sob rips from the back of your throat, and you look back at Spencer. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. A wave of emotion hits you, and you let out another sob, your body falling backward, your butt hitting the ground. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here. I’m here.”

Spencer wraps his arms around you again, and you squeeze your eyes shut, the tears not seeming to stop. You can’t even hear the team around you—the only thing you can hear is the sound of a gunshot on repeat and the thud as your dad’s body had hit the floor. Spencer’s hand runs through your hair—no doubt bloody—and you continue to cry, the shock hitting you and never seeming to lessen.

And as Spencer cradles you in his arms, you can feel the harrowing walls come crashing down around you, the silence ringing in your ears as you feel yourself slip into emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say BECAUSE THIS CHAPTER WAS SO INTENSE AHHHHHHHHH  
> There's only one more chapter of this fic! And then the epilogue! It's been a crazy ride! Ah!


	20. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

“Sweetheart?”

You look up from the bed, pulling your black flats on with your left hand, eyes landing on Spencer. He’s standing in the doorway of the room, dressed in a black suit, topped off with his black Converse. His black tie is undone, not made yet, sitting around his neck. You stand, straightening the black dress you’re wearing. 

You cross the short distance to him, taking his tie in your hands—eyeing the splint that rests around your right hand. You look up at him as you slowly fix his tie, his arms wrapping around to your back. He runs his hands up and down your back slowly, and you tighten his tie, settling your hands flat on his chest.

“Are the kids ready?” You ask quietly.

He nods. “They’re downstairs with Jamie and Kyle.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, closing your eyes, and you feel one of Spencer’s hands move to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes after a moment, concern flashing through Spencer’s eyes. 

“You don’t _have_ to go, sweetheart.”

“It’s my dad’s funeral, Spence. I have to be there.”

You avert your gaze, looking down at the ground. Guilt swirls in your chest, the same guilt that’s been eating you alive for two weeks. You feel guilty. Guilty that you couldn’t help your dad. Guilty that you couldn’t _save_ him. 

Spencer hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Sweetheart. You shouldn’t feel guilty. Samuel knew exactly what he was doing the entire time. He had a death wish.”

You inhale slowly, nodding. Because Spencer is _right_. Samuel had planned the whole thing—he was always going to shoot your dad. He knew you were going to shoot him. He _wanted_ to die. And you had helped him achieve it.

You feel _sick_.

After sobbing in Spencer’s arms for what felt like _hours_ , the team had managed to get you outside to a medic. You weren’t hurt at all—except the damage to your knuckles from punching Samuel so many times. You had watched as the EMTs brought the bodies out one by one—first Samuel, then your dad. You couldn’t even look at him and had proceeded to throw up in a bush by the rig. 

Spencer had driven you back to the hotel and had basically fucking carried you up to your room. He undressed you, discarding your bloody clothes in the trash can in the room. And then he showered with you, washing you off, and all you could do was watch while the blood ran down your body to your feet, swirling around the drain. He’d dressed you afterward in his clothes—his Caltech sweater and sweatpants that were too big for you before brushing your hair. 

The whole time, he’d whisper sweet things to you, making sure you weren’t alone. The shock was still running through you, even as you watched Spencer pack up you guys’ things back into your go bags. He’d knelt down in front of you, asking you to stand up so you guys could go out to the SUV. He drove to the jet, and once seated in the familiar leather seats, you fell asleep, your head resting on his shoulder.

The hadn’t even seen your mother since that day—watching the team tell her everything that had transpired that night. Spencer had taken you home— _home_ —for the first time in almost two weeks. He had left the kids at Hotch’s for the night, and he’d held you in bed until you had fallen asleep.

The past two weeks have been spent at home with Spencer and your kids. The team was tiptoeing around you, like if they said anything about it, you would break into a million pieces. JJ, Will, and Hotch had come around to visit a few times, and you were actually grateful for their company. Eventually, the realization of everything had happened had caught up with you, and you slowly began to heal. Emphasis on _slowly_. You were coming to terms with your dad’s death. His _real_ death. 

Your mom had contacted you about the funeral, and you’d agreed to go because you felt like you owed it to him. You couldn’t help save him, so you might as well go say goodbye. You feel like someone’s twisting a knife in your heart, and you look up at Spencer, a small smile on your face.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I’ll have you there. And the kids.”

Spencer’s eyes search yours before he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You kiss him back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. After a moment, he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

You and Spencer walk hand in hand down the stairs, you leading. Joseph runs over to you, his little black Converse thudding against the wood floor. He looks up at you, his hazel eyes concerned.

“Mama, are you okay?”

You kneel down, picking up your son. “I’m fine, buddy. Are you ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

Spencer walks over to where Jamie’s holding Rhiannon, Kyle standing next to her. He gives you a small smile which you return. Jamie walks over to you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

“We’re all here for you,” she says softly. 

You nod, giving her a small smile. “I know, Jamie. Thank you.”

You all walk out of the house, Spencer holding Rhiannon. Jamie and Kyle drive separately in their car, and you and Spencer strap the kids into yours. He drives, reaching his hand over to lace his fingers in yours. You squeeze his hand, reaching over with your other to turn on some music for the kids. The drive to the cemetery is quiet, Spencer’s thumb rubbing over yours softly.

He parks the car, and you two grab your kids. You take Joseph, his little arms wrapping around your neck. You kiss his forehead, watching Spencer place his hand on the back of Rhiannon’s head. One of her hands twists in his shirt, the other tugging softly on Spencer’s long hair. He laughs softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

You two walk to where the small crowd—consisting of the team, your mother, and Jamie and Kyle—have gathered next to a coffin. They part, letting you and Spencer through to the front. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at the coffin, and you look at Spencer. He leans forward, kissing your forehead softly. You put Joseph down, and he grabs one of Spencer’s hands. Walking over to the other side of the coffin, you face everyone, clearing your throat.

“The last month of my life has been an absolute mess,” you begin. “So much has happened to me and my family, it all blurs together in my head. And I thought a lot of it was caused by my dad. That it was his fault.” You avert your gaze, looking at the ground. “Turns out, it wasn’t. He was still my dad all along, the same one I grew up with. So today, I want to focus on that instead of the bad things he may have done.” You lock eyes with your mother. “My dad was an amazing person. He did a good job raising me—making sure I knew I was loved, especially after I thought my mom died.” Your lips turn up a little at the corners. “But that’s a whole different conversation.”

Your mom gives a soft laugh, wiping away at the tears that were already falling down her face. You look over at Spencer and your kids, the smile on your face widening.

“The past two weeks, I’ve found myself wrapped up in memories of my father. The way he would read to me sometimes. Us baking cookies every Christmas, eating way too many after they were fresh out of the oven. Watching Game of Thrones together and both of us deciding that season six was our favorite. Every Saturday, we’d go get ice cream from this little place down the street from our house.” You feel a small warmth bloom in your chest the more you talk about the memories you had with your dad. “Even when I went away to college, we talked on the phone every week. He made sure I was loved, even when I didn’t love myself.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you feel tears well in your eyes. “I wish…I wish he were here so he could get to know my kids. So he could get to know Spencer better. So we could all be…a family. But the little things my dad and I had are going to be passed down to my kids. Part of him is still living in the little traditions. And I’m going to cherish those things for the rest of my life.”

You step forward, running your hand along the wood of the coffin for a moment. “I love you, dad. I’m going to miss you every day.”

You inhale deeply before walking back over to Spencer, picking Joseph back up. Spencer kisses you softly, and you watch as they lower the coffin into the ground, beginning to cover it up with dirt. You turn around, facing the team, who slowly approach you.

You give Garcia a half hug, and Joseph kisses her on the cheek. She giggles, smiling at you softly.

“You’re so strong, sweetcheeks.”

“I try, PG.” 

Morgan’s next, enveloping both you and Joseph into a hug, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll see you soon, princess.”

JJ and Will approach you, and you set Joseph down so he can go talk to their kids. JJ hugs you tightly, whispering how sorry she was. Will hugs you next, and you whisper your thanks to him for helping you and Spencer out during this whole ordeal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers back. “We’re just glad you are all safe.”

You release him, giving him a small smile. They go watch their kids and Joseph while you finish making the rounds. Rossi walks over, gripping your shoulder tightly.

“I’m sorry, piccola.”

“It’s alright, Dave. Thank you for coming.”

He nods, kissing you on both cheeks before walking away. Prentiss pulls you in for a tight hug, her hands rubbing your back softly.

“That was a beautiful speech,” she whispers.

“Thanks, Em,” you reply, releasing her.

She looks at you, her red lips turned up into a small smile. “I can’t wait to see you back at work.”

You laugh softly. “I kinda can’t wait to be back. It’ll be a couple more weeks. I need to make sure I’m really okay before I come back.”

She nods. “Well, if you need me, I’m around.”

“Thank you.”

Hotch is the last one, pulling you in for a hug. Hotch’s hugs are very rare, but they’re full of warmth and comfort. He hugs you for a few moments before releasing you, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly.

You nod. “I’m getting a little better, Aaron. Every day is a little better.”

He smiles softly at you. “That’s good. I—uh—know how you’re feeling.” He’s silent for a moment. “Let me know when you want to come back to work. We’ll need to schedule your psych eval.”

“I understand.”

“And Y/n?”

“I love you. And your family. And if you _ever_ need anything from me or Jessica or anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

You nod softly. “Thanks, Aaron.”

He nods, giving you another smile before walking away. Joseph runs back over to you and you scoop him up in your arms, smiling wider when you hear his little giggle. He kisses your cheek, and you ruffle his curls before you look over his shoulder, eyes landing on your mom. You turn toward Spencer, giving him a small smile.

“Can you take him for a minute? I think I need to go talk to my mom.”

Spencer nods, and you set Joseph down. “Come on, big man. We’re gonna go wait for mama in the car, okay?”

Joseph nods, following Spencer back to the car. You turn around, crossing the short distance to your mother. She gives you a small smile and you pull her in for a silent hug. You close your eyes, and she squeezes you tightly. After a few moments, you pull away, taking a small step back. You’re silent for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Are you staying in Virginia?”

Your mom looks surprised at the question. “Um…I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

“Mom…” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I already lost dad. I thought I had lost you for a long time. The kids already have to live without a grandpa. I…feel like they should get to at least have a grandma.”

Your mom gives a soft laugh. “Don’t say that. It makes me feel old.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “What I’m trying to say is, I would love it if you stayed in D.C.”

“Really?” She asks softly. “Would you—could I watch the kids?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you whisper. “I think…it would be good for all of us.”

Your mom smiles, pulling you in for another hug. “I love you, little dove.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

You pull away, giving her one last smile before walking over to the car. You climb into the passenger’s side, buckling your seatbelt as Spencer begins the drive back to the house. He reaches over, lacing is fingers with yours. Weirdly enough, you don’t feel too sad anymore. You feel…hopeful. Hopeful for the future. A new future that now includes your mom.

When Spencer pulls up to the house, you two bring the kids into the house. You and Spencer change them before changing into some comfy clothes, and you spend the whole day with your family, watching movies and ordering takeout for dinner. You and Spencer put the kids to bed, reading Joseph a book, watching as he falls asleep not even a minute in. You plant a kiss to his forehead before walking into Rhiannon’s room. You turn on the baby monitor and kiss her forehead, pulling the blanket over her before leaving the room. 

You and Spencer shower together, giggling to each other while you wash each other’s hair and bodies. He plants small kisses on your shoulder and neck before kissing your lips, smiling against your mouth. You kiss him back, savoring the sweet moment with him. After drying off and moisturizing, you change into some pajamas and brush your teeth, climbing into bed with Spencer. You two sit up next to each other, and he reaches forward, grabbing one of your hands with both of his.

“Can I just say you’re the strongest person I know?” Spencer says softly, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Stop,” you whisper. “You’re strong, too, Spence.”

“I guess we both are.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I told my mom to stay in D.C. I…want her to be a part of this family. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first, but—”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” he interrupts you. “I agree with you. She would be a big help. Plus, you two have a lot of catching up to do.”

You laugh softly. “That’s true.” 

He reaches one hand up, cupping your cheek. “You’re the best thing in my whole life, sweetheart. Other than the kids.”

You grin, leaning into his hand. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you.”

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

He smiles, leaning forward slightly. “It’s effortless.”

Giggling, you lean forward, kissing him softly. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, moving his lips slowly against yours. You lace your fingers with his, and he squeezes your hand.

You could stay in this moment forever with your husband, just the two of you. And for the first time in a while, you’re truly content with your life. You feel hopeful for the future with Spencer. With the kids. Your mom. The team. 

And in this moment, you feel utterly _loved_ by Spencer.

And that, right there, is the best feeling in the world.

**_The End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this chapter was...surprisingly hard to write. I'm so sad it's the last chapter (besides the epilogue, which I will be posting soon). This story and Losing Control have been a huge part of my life for a little over four months. I can't believe the reaction I've gotten to both of them! Thank you guys for sticking around and being a part of this process. I appreciate and love y'all so much :)


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end.

“Spence! Hurry up, honey, people are gonna be here any minute!”

You open the oven, pulling out the turkey that had been cooking basically all day. You place it on the counter, on top of a couple potholders, sticking the meat thermometer in it. As you wait for the temperature, you hear Spencer come down the stairs, and you feel his arms wrap around you from behind. He kisses the top of your head, and you turn your head, looking up at him.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he replies, grinning at you.

“Can you make sure the mac and cheese is still hot? And give the mashed potatoes a stir?”

He nods, releasing you. You glance down at the thermometer. 170 degrees. Perfect. You repeat the process a couple more times in different places, making sure it’s cooked at the way. You put some aluminum foil over the turkey before popping some rolls on a baking sheet and putting them in the oven.

“Joseph?” You call out, shutting the oven door.

“Yeah, mom?”

You turn your head, grinning at the six-year old. “Can you go upstairs and get Rhiannon, please? She’s playing in her room.”

Your son nods, and you ruffle his hair as he runs up the stairs. You turn back around, glancing over the array of food you and Spencer had been making all morning. Mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, green beans, stuffing, turkey breast, gravy. All suitable Thanksgiving foods. 

Spencer turns toward you, and you grin at your husband, crossing the couple steps toward him to plant a kiss on his lips. He kisses you back, smiling against your lips before pulling away.

“You look nice,” you compliment him, trailing your hands down the dark blue button up, tugging slightly on his tie.

“No, _you_ look beautiful,” he replies, eyes grazing over the dark purple dress you’re wearing.

“Mmm, we’re both just really hot,” you tease, your smile growing wider.

He laughs, and you hear Joseph carefully bringing Rhiannon down the stairs. The three-year old’s eyes light up when she sees you, and she comes running over, wrapping her arms around your leg.

“Mama, when are we eating? I’m hungry,” she says, her wide, hazel eyes looking up at you.

You grin, scooping her up in your arms, a shriek coming from her as you tickle her. “In a few minutes. Everyone’s coming to eat with us!”

“Even grandma?”

“Mhm, even grandma.”

You set her down, and her and Joseph go into the living room, occupying themselves with the TV. You take the rolls out of the oven, setting them down on some potholders. The front door opens, and you grin as JJ, Will, Henry, and Michael walk inside, the two boys immediately running over to your kids. You hug JJ first, then Will, JJ setting the pumpkin pie she’d brought on the counter. 

Garcia, Savannah, and Morgan are next, followed closely by Hotch, Jack, and Jessica. You greet your friends—well, more like your family—as they come in, all of them settling around the kitchen to talk. Rossi walks in carrying a bottle of champagne that’s way too expensive. Prentiss comes in, carrying an old-fashioned apple pie with her. The last person to show is your mother.

You hug her, and she kisses your cheek. She makes her way over to your kids, who cheer, hugging their grandma before resuming their activities with Henry, Michael, and Jack. You walk back into the kitchen, wrapping an arm around Spencer’s waist, looking at all of the amazing people in your life.

“Thank you all for coming; it really means a lot to us!” You say, grinning at everyone around you. “There’s _so_ much food, so please eat as much as you want.” You glance at Hotch, reaching behind you to hold up the turkey carver.

“Hotch, we decided you should be the one to cut the turkey,” Spencer says, grinning at him. “If I do it, I will _definitely_ mess it up.”

Hotch laughs, walking forward to take the carver from your hands. “It would be my pleasure.”

He cuts the turkey, and you grab paper plates—because doing dishes is a _bitch_ —and you fix your kid’s plates first, settling them at a smaller table fixed just for the children. You kiss Rhiannon and Joseph’s foreheads as they begin to eat before making your own plate. Rossi pops the champagne, pouring everyone a glass. The nine of you settle at the dining room table, Spencer sitting beside you. Your mom sits on the other side of you, and you all dig into your food.

The lunch is amazing, eating and laughing with your family, Spencer’s hand occasionally squeezing your thigh throughout the duration of it. You smile at him, putting your hand on his. Garcia clears her throat, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Okay, we have to go around and say something we’re thankful for!”

“Okay, Garcia, why don’t you start,” Spencer says, grinning at her.

“Well, I’m thankful for the new Pokémon game that came out for the switch,” she says, giggling. “And, of course, for all of you.”

Everyone collectively laughs, and the question travels around the table, everyone saying what they’re thankful for. The statements are heartfelt, and warmth stirs in your chest as you watch everyone’s faces light up as they speak. Eventually, it gets to you, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand.

“It might seem pretty obvious, but I’m incredibly thankful for all of you,” you state, a small smile on your face. “Losing my dad—for real, this time—was really _hard_ but having you supporting me and being in my life made it easier. I’m thankful for my kids and my mom.” You turn your head slightly, smiling at your mom. “And I’m thankful for Spencer, always.” 

He leans in, giving you a soft kiss. “Ditto.”

You laugh, and Rossi holds up his champagne glass. “To family.”

“To family!” Everyone says simultaneously.

As you drink your champagne, you look at each member of your team—your family. You hear your kids laughing from the small table a few feet away. You can’t help but feel so lucky that this is your life, surrounded by people who utterly love and care for you. A twinge of sadness runs through you—sadness that your dad can’t be here with you, to see the life that you’ve made with Spencer. But it quickly passes, realizing that he wouldn’t want you to be sad. He’d want you to be _happy_.

And you are.

Truly, incredibly happy and loved.

 _Finally_.

**_The End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Betrayal comes to an end. :)  
> First, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who read this. It was a whirlwind of emotions. Second, writing this made me feel so incredibly bittersweet. Losing Control was the first fic I ever wrote, and the fact that it got so huge and people read it AND Betrayal just makes me so happy. I grew to love Y/n, and this being the end makes me both happy and sad.  
> You guys are all amazing. Thanks for sticking around to read this :)  
> If you have a Wattpad and want to follow me, the username is the same. I have a few fics over there I haven't posted on here.


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